


family traditions

by independentalto



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Chinese New Year, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, there's no way this is set in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/independentalto/pseuds/independentalto
Summary: One of the big holidays celebrated on Afterlife used to be Chinese New Year. It's not something Skye's really ever celebrated in depth, nor is it something May's celebrated with publicly.Lincoln's here to change all of that.
Relationships: Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons, Joey Gutierrez/Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie, Lincoln Campbell/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 22
Kudos: 20





	1. zodiac signs

**Author's Note:**

> This was back in 201...5, I think? 2016. I'm importing it from FFN because it's come to my attention that it should be imported :) It's also not Chinese New Year, but it's a cute lil fic that I miss!

As the sounds of shooting emanated from the range, Lincoln flattened himself against the wall outside the door, a drop of sweat running down his forehead. 

_ Yup. Not a good idea. Really not a good idea. Should’ve thought of this beforehand.  _ Still, he’d come this far. Taking a deep breath, he composed himself, quietly walking into the range. May was standing alone in one of the booths, large red headphones over her ears as she emptied a .48 into a target at least ninety feet away. 

He waited until she stopped firing, then quietly tapped her on the shoulder. “Agent May...?”

She whirled on him, pointing her gun even though it was empty (she figured he didn’t know it was empty). When she saw it was Lincoln, she lowered her gun, but not her weary countenance. “Yes, Lincoln?” 

“Uh...so here’s the thing...” Lincoln, suddenly nervous, looked down as he shifted from foot to foot. “So, this time last year, you know as well as I do I was on Afterlife, and, see, Jiaying sort of had this tradition that we all partook in...”

“Just spit it out, Campbell.” May’s slightly amused tone filtered through his rambling. It really was funny how they were all so scared of her - just last week, Joey had dropped an entire bowl of chips onto the kitchen floor just because she’d asked him to pass the popcorn. 

“WecelebratedChineseNewYearonAfterlifeandIwaswonderingifyoudidtoo.” The words rushed out in a rumble, and May cocked her head in confusion as Lincoln continued. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to impose, so, uh, I’ll just be going, I think I hear Skye calling my name anyways -”

“Lincoln.” May’s use of his first name stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to look back at her. May was still standing there, although, thankfully, she’d put her gun down. “I usually don’t,” she admitted quietly. “No family to celebrate with.” 

“Well, maybe you can celebrate with us this year,” Lincoln suggested, slowly walking back into the room, his palms open. “The team could always use some bonding, and frankly, I’d like Skye to figure out a little bit of where her culture came from.” May nodded, her mind already whirring. There’d have to be some threats made. And lots of things acquired.  _ Damn. She’d have to hunt down a chicken.  _

“I think it’s a good idea,” she said finally, and Lincoln exhaled audibly, tension leaving his shoulders. “Tell you what. You break it to the rest of the team, and I’ll go get the first set of red envelopes. Deal?” Lincoln nodded, and May turned back to her gun, disassembling it and cleaning up the shells.

* * *

“Oh. We’re celebrating Chinese New Year?” Skye asked curiously as she stared up at the holotable an hour later. The entire team (save for May and Coulson) was gathered in the room, staring at the large circle of zodiac animals. 

Skye looked at Lincoln nervously, fiddling with the hem of her sweater. “I’ve never celebrated it,” she admitted, looking down. “Never had a foster family that actually cared enough to celebrate it, and I couldn’t really afford it when I was living in a van. To be honest, I’m surprised May agreed.” 

“Chinese New Year is all about family, Skye,” he said, looping an arm around her shoulders. “I figured, since you sort of lost your biological family a little too quickly, you could cement the tradition with your other family.” He gestured to the team, who was all starting at the circle of animals in fascination. 

“Oh,” Skye murmured again, and she swiped at her eyes slightly. “Jus’ allergies,” she sniffed quickly to the team, when Simmons looked at her concernedly. Her eyes told a different story when she looked at Lincoln. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

He let her bury her head into his side. 

“So just how are we supposed to find out our signs?” Simmons’ scientifically curious voice filtered through the silence, and they all turned to look at her. Skye shot Simmons a grateful look, thankful for the distraction. 

“Take the year you were born and divide by 12,” Lincoln tells them all, pulling up a blank space on the holotable to demonstrate. “So here, I was born in 1985, long division by twelve, remainder of five.” He quickly sketched out the math. “Makes me an ox.” The rest of them nodded, except for Skye, who quickly jumped out of his embrace. 

“Wait, you’re  _ how old _ ??”

* * *

**Simmons**

“This is fascinating, really,” she murmured as she examined the circle of animals, a pencil and paper on the holotable in front of her. “How did the twelve animals get chosen? Which species are they? And how did they determine the order?” 

“Well, legend has it that there was a race to determine which animals got onto the zodiac,” Lincoln informed her from across the table where he was trying to convince Skye of his age. “Whichever first twelve animals made it would be the animals on the zodiac.” 

“Hm.” Simmons’ fingers flew as she sketched out the math - she was genius at chemistry formulas and biological equations,  _ not  _ basic maths - scrunching her face up in concentration as she consulted the chart above her. “Remainder of 7. I’m a rabbit, I guess.” 

“Guess that makes me one, too,” Fitz shrugged, looking up at the chart. When everyone looked at them, he shrugged. “I was born about a month after Jem. Same year.”

“Oooh,” Skye exclaimed, suddenly excited again. “Is there a compatibility chart? We could finally find out what the cosmos are saying about you guys? Wait, new rule,” she rambled. “No one looks until after they find out their signs.” A few taps on the table later, and a chart was pulled up. “Rabbit with a rabbit...” she murmured, moving a finger across the squares. “Well,” she said finally, turning to face FitzSimmons. “You’d make a wonderful pair, but a perfectly average couple.” 

Fitz and Simmons immediately turned to each other and said emphatically, “No.”

* * *

**Skye**

“Skye, what’s your sign?” Simmons asked excitedly. A pit of despair opened up in Skye’s stomach. How was she supposed to know her sign if she didn’t even know what year she’d been born? 

She opened her mouth to say exactly that when Lincoln cut in. “Alright, so, 1992, divide that by 12...” He handed the stylus to Skye. “Here. You can do the math.” She took it, her eyes training over the numbers as she manipulated them with ease. 

“Remainder 8,” she said, making a sound of satisfaction. “I’m a monkey.” All of a sudden, she giggled. “Hey it’s my year!” she exclaimed. “So suck it up, everyone. Y’all are my bitches.” Simmons silently pulled up the love chart, crossing her sign with Lincoln’s.

She broke into a large smile. “According to the cosmos, you two are a perfect match,” she proclaimed. “You’re supposed to have a loving and blissful relationship. Age notwithstanding.” The last part was softly directed towards Skye. “Don’t feel bad about it, Skye. True love knows no boundaries.” 

Skye grinned. “Thanks, Jem.”

* * *

**Hunter and Bobbi**

“When was the last time I even did bloody maths?” he muttered to himself, crossing out his multiple attempts on paper, making sure to keep them to himself. “Blasted long divisions. Haven’t needed to do this since I was eight. This is what calculators were invented for.” 

“Need help with math, Hunter?” Bobbi teased as she looked over from her own pad of paper. “I wouldn’t put it past you to forget how to do long division.” He huffed as she laughed.

“I can do my own bloody math, Bob,” he insisted, scratching out the problem once more.  _ 1982 over 12...one twelve into nineteen, that’s seven, carry down the eight...how many twelves go into 78 again? _

“Six,” Bobbi broke into his concentration, leaning over his shoulder. “And that’s 72. Carry down the two.” Gently taking his hand, she moved him through the rest of the equation. “And then you’ve got 2 left, and that’s your remainder.” Her chin rested on his shoulder as he turned to look at her, gentleness in her blue eyes.

She moved away from him to check the zodiac circle. “You’re a dog,” she said finally, coming back over. “And if it helps -” She glanced around warily, looking to make sure no one saw her before holding up her phone. “I had to Google it.” 

Hunter barked out a laugh. “Guess I’m not alone in this sea of geniuses.”

“No,” she agreed quietly, coming back to stand beside him, her chin refinding its place on his shoulder, another hand coming up to slip over his other shoulder. “You’re not.”

“‘S that make you, then?” he asked, and Bobbi chuckled as she reached for her pad of paper. “Wow,” he laughed when he saw the numerous slashes of long division. “You weren’t joking when you said you had to Google it.” 

“Shut up, Hunter,” she huffed quietly, looking up towards the wheel. “Remainder three. I’m a pig,” Despite herself, she had to laugh too. “I suppose that makes sense, considering the way I eat.” She pulled up the chart, Hunter reaching up to trace their animals. 

“We’re complementary,” he shrugged, “but with our ups and downs.” They shared a look then, knowing the countless fights and slammed doors between the two of them, somehow always winding up in reconciliation. “Sounds like we weren’t really meant to be together.” 

“No,” Bobbi agreed. “But we’re not, and we’re both better for that, I think.” She cast a glance over at FitzSimmons, which Hunter caught, smirking knowingly. “Oh, shut up,” she said once more, blushing when nudged her in the side. “Just motherhenning them,” she murmured into his shoulder. 

“Sure,” he chortled. “ _ Sure. _ ”

* * *

**Joey**

He carefully looked around to make sure no one was looking before he squinted at the numbers he’d written on the paper, grinning when the small molecules of graphite began to move around on the paper, rearranging themselves. 

“Carry the seven down, six of them in 72...” The numbers were soon quickly in place, and he grinned, consulting the chart. “Remainder nine. Snake. Cool.”

“Either you’re a mathematical genius, or there’s something you’re hiding from me.”

Lincoln’s voice cut in behind Joey, and he jumped, whirling around to face him. His hands automatically flew to cover his paper. “Come on, Guiterrez,” he teased. “There’s nothing wrong with being a mathematical genius. You wouldn’t be the only one.” 

“It’s not that,” he admitted quietly. “I can make the graphite move.” When Lincoln’s eyebrows flew up, he held up the paper, concentrating. Slowly, the pencil marks began to move again, this time rearranging themselves into a miniscule portrait of Skye. 

“Whoa,” Lincoln said, slowly reaching for the paper. “Can I keep this?”

“Knock yourself out.”

* * *

**Mack**

“Well, I’ve figured out why Hunter and Mack didn’t get along when Mack handcuffed him to the sink,” Bobbi chuckled as she looked up at the chart. On the other side, Mack was determinedly doing his own math, not noticing the glances Joey was sending him, itching to help him with the math. 

Finally, Joey couldn’t take it anymore, and stared at the paper, willing the graphite to move. Mack jerked back in surprise as his numbers began to rearrange themselves, forming a perfect remainder two on his paper. “What the actual hell?” 

Lincoln hid a smile. Skye looked confused until he showed her the portrait Joey’d made. “Whoa,” she whispered, gesturing between Joey and the paper. “ _ He  _ did that?” When Lincoln nodded, she immediately pulled up the love chart, squealing. 

“Yeah, you’re really not supposed to let two people of the same animal get involved,” he shot to Bobbi. “So next time, I’d check with the cosmos before you let me cuff anyone to a sink, Barbara. Make sure they’re not dogs like me.” 

Bobbi mock-scowled. “Don’t call me Barbara.” 

“They’d be ‘quite charming’, but average.” Skye’s face fell as she traced the animals. “Damn. I’d hate to see that fall apart.” She looked over at Joey, who was still staring at Mack. “Don’t  _ ever  _ tell them they’d only be average. I won’t let that break him.”

* * *

**Coulson and May**

“Ready to find out your sign, Phil?” May joked as she stepped into the room long after the table had left. “Huh. Guess they went and pulled out the love chart, too.” She handed Coulson the paper and pencil, waiting patiently as he did the math. 

She walked around the room, picking up the scraps of paper the team had left behind. Setting them onto the table, May pulled over the love chart, shifting various papers as she entertained the various couplings in her head. 

_ Note to self: Morse and Simmons are getting together before this holiday’s over.  _

“I’m a tiger?” Phil asked confusedly, scratching his head. “What’s your sign, Mel?” 

“Rabbit,” May murmured back, consulting the love chart once again. “Someone break it to them that we’re not going to work out,” she joked. “We’d be perfectly average.” 

“Well, goshdarn it,” Coulson mocked in an elderly voice. “It works out anyways. I’m already taken by my trading cards and Lola. You can’t separate me from Lola. I wonder what her sign is.” 

That earned him a roll of the eyes and a smack on the head.

* * *

“Red envelopes are a valuable part of Chinese New Year tradition,” May said later that night, as the team was gathered around the kitchen island. “Inside them is what we all like to call lucky money, and you only get them if you’re unmarried.”

“Receive them with two hands,” Lincoln instructed, holding out his hands to demonstrate as May handed him a pair of red envelopes. “Now, since this is the first one, you’re supposed to sleep with this pair under your pillow,”

“Parents usually give them to their kids the night before, but since Lincoln brought it up today, I figured today’s a good day as any, since you’re only getting another pair later.” The agents lined up to receive their envelopes, each of them reaching out with a pair of cautious hands. 

Skye was last to receive her pair, pausing quietly when May handed her the envelopes. They were a bright red, with metallic gold calligraphy swathed across them and a brightly colored lion dancing in the background. “May,” she began haltingly. 

“Yes, Skye?” May asked, frowning quietly. “Is something wrong?”

Skye shook her head. “Parents. Give them to their kids on the first day?” May nodded, and Skye flung herself into the older agent’s arms. “Thank you,” she murmured, and, suddenly, May understood, patting Skye on the back. 

“Happy New Year, Skye.” 


	2. chicken hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jemma learns the perils of cleaning and May hunts down a chicken.

“ _ JEMMA SIMMONS, YOU HAD BETTER NOT BE CLEANING!”  _

May’s outraged voice echoed through the hallways, causing Simmons to squeak and stash the broom she was holding into a nearby closet, slamming the door and making a run for it. She didn’t stop running (or screaming mentally) until she made it into the lab, collapsing onto the nearest surface to catch her breath. 

Bobbi looked over casually. “You look a little flushed, Jem. You all right?” 

“Huh? Yes,” Simmons fought to even her breaths, straightening up. “May seems to be quite the stickler about cleaning today. I’ve had to dodge the broom twice today, and I haven’t been able to clean up that spill Fitz’s made over on the other end yet. Thank you for your concern, Agent Morse, but really, I’m fine -”

_ “Bobbi _ .” 

“Bobbi, right.” In her haste to correct herself, Simmons tipped over a small beaker, causing its contents to shatter and spill onto the floor. “Bloody hell,” she whispered to herself, a small blush creeping over her face. Sighing, she reached for a cloth to wipe it up, crouching down to mop it up - 

_ “I HEARD THAT! YOU’D BETTER NOT BE CLEANING IT UP!”  _ With another squeak, Simmons jumped back up, smacking her head on the overhead shelf. 

“Ow,” she whimpered, rubbing her head. Bobbi immediately put down whatever she was holding, hurrying over to Simmons, a concerned look on her face. 

“Just a small bump, Jem. You’ll live,” she said comfortingly, rubbing Simmons’ head. “If it helps, I’ll get you an ice pack,” She hurried off to the fridge, soon returning with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, which she immediately pressed to Simmons’ head. 

“Thank you, truly,” Simmons said, holding the ice pack to her head as she turned to Bobbi. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into May today, but thank you nonetheless.” With that, she stretched up to press a kiss to Bobbi’s cheek and sauntered off, leaving the other scientist standing there, a stutter rooted in her voice. 

“Really, Simmons? It’s not even noon and you’ve managed to injure yourself?” Lincoln inquired as she hurried into the kitchen, intent on making herself a cup of tea. “Maybe I should ask Bobbi to keep a better eye on you.” 

“Well, if it weren’t for bloody May, I wouldn’t keep injuring myself,” Simmons muttered to herself, blushing slightly at the mention of Bobbi. “Got the hearing of a bat, I swear. She keeps screaming just when I’m about to clean something up.”

“Oh,” Lincoln laughs. “That’s because you’re not supposed to.” Simmons paused in the middle of steeping a bag into her hot water, laughing nervously. 

“Well, it’s very generous and altruistic of May to want to clean up after all of us, but really, I think we’re capable of cleaning up our own messes, and she’s lucky that wasn’t a toxic compound, otherwise I would have most definitely gotten killed -”

“No, you don’t get it,” Lincoln is still laughing as Simmons  _ hmphed _ , turning to him. “It’s a Chinese New Year tradition,” he explained. “You’re not supposed to clean, because then it’s like you’re cleaning away your good fortune. Hence May screaming when she saw you with the broom.” 

“I see,” Simmons’ face clearly read that she took no stock in the tradition whatsoever, because how could one possibly clear away good fortune? - but was determined to play along. If for May’s sake. “Is this for the entirety of the new year, or? Because I’m not sure we could handle messes for a fortnight.” 

“Just for today, Simmons,” Lincoln teases. “Then you can get back to your normal neat-freak self.”

“I am not a neat freak!”

* * *

“Saw a change in the flight plan,” Coulson said casually as he strolled into the cockpit, where May was determinedly steering. “Where are we supposed to be heading?”

“It’s Chinese New Year,” May began with gritted teeth. “I started without new clothes, fine. But I’ll be damned if I’m not cooking. Hence, I am touching down in a state with a decent Chinatown, or so help me. We are getting vegetables, seafood, and I will  _ hunt  _ a chicken down if I have to.” 

“Whatever you need, Mel,” Coulson put his hands in the air, silently backing out of the cockpit. 

“Oh, and Phil?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t clean.”

* * *

“I’ve never been in a Chinatown before,” Skye remarked as they descended upon the bustling square later that day, reusable shopping bags in hand. “I mean, I’ve  _ slept  _ in a Chinatown alley before in my van, but...” She gestured at all of the elderly Asians and their relatives bustling around the square, bags of food in their hands. “Never this.” 

“Yeah,” Lincoln agreed, a slight look of awe on his face. “This amount of people is definitely new.” 

“How do they pack so many people into this square?” Simmons took a deep breath, immediately regretting it as she went into a coughing fit from all of the cigarette smoke. Bobbi, who was next to her, patted her strongly on the back until she was alright, then took her arm, the two of them off to find a small cafe.

“Right, well, you’ve all got your lists,” May said, a steely look on her face. “Now, remember, the people here are tough. Don’t be afraid to shove. Only haggle at the outdoor markets. And whatever you do, if the alley smells really strongly of fish, don’t go in it. That one’s got the Chinese mafia. Ready?”

“Break.” Hunter said loudly, causing several people to look at him. He set off with a very embarrassed Fitz. 

May, Coulson, Joey and Mack wandered down to the corner grocery store, Mack needing to duck just to make it in. They all watched as May shouldered her way through throngs of shopping carts and babbling Asians, disappearing into the crowd as she reached for a plastic bag on a roll. 

“I’d best go follow her,” Coulson said with a wry smile. “Mack, Joey, try not to shove anyone into displays, shall we? I doubt May wants to practice her foreign verbal sparring anytime soon.” The two men nodded, immediately trying to blend in but failing. 

May frowned at the various bean sprouts on the shelf, soaked with water and wrapped together with twine. She reached for a bunch, judging it thoroughly before throwing it into a bag. Seven other bunches went in this same fashion, and she caught Coulson’s eye, nodding before tying the bag and throwing it to him. 

Several squawks of indignation were heard as the bag flew over several heads, and May just sighed as she moved on to find some lotus. She turned over a plethora in succession before she found one with insignificant bruising, adding it to another bag she’d grabbed from the roll. 

There was a perfect one in the top corner that caught her eye at the last second. May began to reach for it, laying her hand on it at the same time as an elderly Asian lady. They turned and locked eyes, daring each other to grab for it. 

“Code purple,” Coulson said into his comms quietly so as not to be heard. “May’s about to get into a fight with someone over...a lotus, I think?” 

“Copy that,” Mack’s voice rumbled gently over the stream. “Where’s the best place to set up filming?” 

“Aisle 4.” 

“Got you.”

* * *

“I still think it was perfectly justified,” May insisted as they headed out of the supermarket an hour and a half later, each of them carrying nearly their weight’s worth of food. “All I did was insult her in a few choice dialects! And steal the lobster she had in her cart! There was no reason for the manager to get involved!” 

“May, you tried to steal her lobster  _ and  _ her asparagus. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to steal asparagus. That’s just cruel,” Mack exclaimed good-naturedly. “If anything, you should’ve gone for her bell peppers. Those looked like good bell peppers.” 

“And for that, you and Gutierrez are carrying the bags back to the jet,” May piled her bags onto the taller agent while Coulson did the same to Joey. “When you two are done, meet me back here. I want to spare you two from the horror that comes next.”

“What’s that?” Joey asked timidly. 

May’s face grew stern. “I’ve got to get a chicken.

* * *

“I’m going to be perfectly honest with you, Jem,” Bobbi said succinctly as they sat in a cafe filled to the brim with regular customers, each of them clutching their milk teas and buns. “I don’t like Chinatowns. Too many people crammed into one place, everyone’s rude, and there’s so many jaywalkers you could hit someone just by starting your car.” 

“Oh?” Simmons asked, leaning into Bobbi’s side (they hadn’t had the fortune to seats that allowed them to face each other). She took a bite of her roasted pork bun, making a tiny sound of appreciation. “I like it. You can lose yourself here, and no one would notice. It’s a nice difference from having everyone knowing where you are. But if you don’t like it, why are we still here?” 

“I couldn’t pretend I didn’t see your curious face on,” Bobbi teased. “You’ve really never been to a Chinatown before? They didn’t have them back home?” Simmons shook her head. “Oh. Well, then now I  _ definitely  _ need to take you around, Jemma Simmons. I can’t let a perfectly good opportunity for an outing got to waste.” 

“An - an - an outing?” Simmons stammered, her face going beet red. “You mean - like - like - like a  _ date _ ?” Bobbi’s lips quirked up into a small smile as she looked over the other girl fondly. “There - there’s no possible way you could call this a  _ date,  _ at most, it’s an outing between two friends who just happen to garner attraction towards one another and -”

“Jemma,” Bobbi said slowly. “It doesn’t matter what we call this, okay? We can call this whatever you want. Hell, we can call it a non-date, if you want.” Simmons stopped babbling and looked at Bobbi, her hazel eyes wide. 

“A non-date,” she said slowly, mulling the words around in her mouth. “I like that.” 

“What d’you mean, they kill the chicken right on the spot?” Coulson squawked as they stood in line. The two of them were currently stuck in the back of the queue, May impatiently tapping her foot as she occasionally rolled her eyes at the antics of the people in front of her. 

“If I  _ ever  _ get like that, knock me out and get my blood tested,” she said to Coulson as the lady in front of them loudly answered her cell phone, holding it in front of her so she could put it on speaker. Five minutes later, when the line had moved up significantly but the woman in front of her hadn’t, she sighed and shouldered ahead of her. 

The woman on the phone immediately took notice, and, without hanging up, began shouting at May in Cantonese about how she’d stolen her spot. May seemed to almost  _ smirk  _ as she delivered cool, sarcastic replies, not even batting an eyelash as the other woman seemed to become more and more annoyed. 

By then, their little spat had gained the attention of the rest of the line, and the entire crowd moved to side with May’s adversary, some going out of their way to violently shove May as they shunted her to the back of the line. At last, she ended up at the end with Coulson, her hand twitching towards her gun. 

“Mel, don’t kill them,” Coulson warned, but as it turned out, it hadn’t been a necessary warning. 

“Mack, how long until you and Gutierrez get back here?” 

“So let me get this straight,” Joey said later when he, Mack, Coulson and May were huddled around the corner from the chicken livery. “You want me to melt the bars on the cages and set the chickens free?” 

“Damn right,” May muttered, looking murderous. “These bitches aren’t going to know what hit them.” 

“And if I get discovered?” Joey asked nervously. 

“We got you covered, man,” Mack reassured him. “May’ll get you out of the firefight, no sweat.” He rubbed his hands together. “Man, am I ready to have some chicken tonight.” 

Joey took a deep breath, focusing on the bars of the cage inside the livery. Slowly, steel turned to liquid, the chickens hopping out of the cage with loud clucks as they realized their freedom. Screams of horror rent the air as the chickens ran everywhere, and a particularly plump one caught the corner of May’s eye. Not wanting to lose it to anyone, she broke into a dead run, ignoring the war cries of everyone else trying to catch a chicken. 

She was just about to close in on it when it shrieked and hopped off, nearly making May sacrifice her jacket to the cold, dirtied puddles in the streets. Scowling, she straightened her resolve, giving chase after the chicken once more. Mack’s cries of triumph echoed off of the street as he held a white chicken up into the air. 

“DON’T HELP ANY OF ‘EM, MACK!” she shouted as she converged upon the chicken once more. Seeing her chance, May dove, only to have the chicken scamper out of her grasp at the last moment. “Ow,” she whispered to herself. “I’m not thirty anymore. No more diving at chickens.” Still, she stood, running after the chickens once more. 

The street was a mess as Bobbi and Simmons stepped out of the cafe, chicken feathers everywhere with Asians of all ages scrambling around trying to catch a chicken. “...is this some tradition I don’t know about?” Simmons asked, sipping her milk tea as she looked up at Bobbi. 

Bobbi spotted May in the fray, throwing elbows as she raced after a brown chicken. “I don’t think so, Jem,” she said thoughtfully, sipping at her own tea. “More like someone let the chickens loose.”

“Make yourself useful, Morse, and get the damn chicken!” May shouted as she dove for the chicken once more, only to have it cluck and run off. Bobbi sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“I’m not getting paid enough for this. Hold my tea?”

“Technically, you’re not getting paid for this at all -” Simmons broke in helpfully as Bobbi made an impressive dive for the chicken, catching it in her arms. The entire crowd turned to look at her as she delivered a knockout blow to the chicken’s head, her blond hair mussed and flying over her eyes. Simmons supposed she  _ did  _ make an impressive picture, all long legs and leather jacket and jeans - no, wait,  _ what  _ was she thinking?!

Skye, Lincoln, Fitz and Hunter cautiously stepped onto the streets, peering over the circle that had formed. Bobbi was in the center of it, struggling to her feet with a large chicken in her hand. Lincoln sighed. “Ten bucks says Joey started this.” 

“Probably did.”

* * *

“Someone want to tell my why it was so important I dived headfirst for a damn chicken?” Bobbi asked later that night, nursing a scraped elbow as she walked into the kitchen. May was already chopping away at the chicken with fury, the knife landing in the cutting board with each chop. 

“Tradition,” she answered shortly, letting the knife fall with a  _ thwap  _ into the junction between leg and hip. “Back when people were poor, chicken was a big thing to have, so they ate it during the new year. Besides,” she turned to Bobbi, who looked half-indignant. “I’m pretty sure Simmons liked the view.” 

“Shut  _ up,  _ May!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...you really like having May hunt down chickens, don't you?" -Sanctuaria, September 2020  
> "if I had a nickel for every time May hunted down a chicken, I'd have two nickels. It's not much, but it's weird that it happened twice." -me


	3. zhong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _zhong_ : rice often combined with peanuts and Chinese sausage, then tied, wrapped in banana leaves and steamed. most likely to be eaten with soy sauce. 
> 
> or, the team get a zhong bonding session and we see people tie their lives together. but only metaphorically.

“May, what are you doing, it’s six am - oh,” Coulson sounded surprised as she wandered into the kitchen to find May, her face reddened by the steam emitting from the stove. “Are you boiling bamboo leaves?” He looked hopeful. “Tell me this means I get to have  _ joong, _ ” he said excitedly. “I haven’t had those since the Academy.” 

“My mother always did wonder who was eating them,” she said wryly as she lifted another batch of leaves from the stove to the sink. “As she put it, ‘you’re certainly not getting any fatter, Melinda, so someone has to be eating them’. I never told her it was you.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked, suddenly awake. May nodded towards the stove, then towards the pile of bamboo leaves that was sitting on the island. 

“Get those into the stove, will you? And see the Chinese sausage on the counter? Eight pieces from each length.” Coulson nodded, humming as he set to work. For a while, the two of them worked in companionable silence, broken sometimes only by the scrubbing of a brush against the leaves. 

“Are you making  _ joong _ ?” Lincoln asked sleepily, poking his head into the kitchen. May and Coulson nodded from their respective positions, and Lincoln perked up instantly. “Want me to get the pork belly?” May waved a hand, and Lincoln immediately went to wash his hands, dousing down the meat. 

The three of them worked until the sun was well into the air, filtering through the only window in the base onto the kitchen island. Coulson had finished cutting the sausage, and was busy mixing beans and sticky rice together.

“Simmons, the tea bags are on the other end of the counter,” May told her when the scientist wandered in, looking thoroughly confused. “I want you to make yourself, Fitz and Bobbi some, then go get some sleep. Yes, I know you’ve been working all night,” she said without even looking up. “Tea. Sleep.” 

“Yes, Agent May,” Simmons sighed, leaning past her to set the teakettle onto the stove. “But if I may ask, what are you doing?”

“That’s for you to know after you’ve slept. And if you could, get Fitz to bed, too. We’re going to need all hands on deck for this later.”

* * *

“You said you were going to go to the bathroom,” Skye accused sleepily later as she meandered into the kitchen, where Lincoln, Coulson and May were assembling ingredients into bowls on the table. “You never came back.” 

“Sorry,” Lincoln said apologetically. “But May and Coulson were making  _ joong _ . I used to make it during the new year at Afterlife.” Skye’s face scrunched up in confusion. 

“Wha’s that?” 

“It’s rice, wrapped in leaves, basically,” May answered as she set a bowl of chinese sausage onto the table. “You’re all going to learn how to make it later,” Skye brightened, clapping her hands in delight. 

“Wait, why not now?” 

“Because  _ certain agents _ ,” May raised her voice to the point where she knew Fitz, Simmons and Bobbi could all hear. “haven’t had sleep yet, and we’re not doing anything until they have,” 

“Loud and clear, May,” Bobbi yelled back sleepily, and the four of them turned to see the three scientists stumble from the lab, Bobbi carrying Simmons in her arms. Hunter emerged not soon after, Fitz slumbering in his embrace. 

“Hold it right there,” Skye ordered, lifting her phone to take a picture. “Okay. You can go now. I’ll just bring this up at your weddings.” 

“Shut up, Skye,” Bobbi muttered, ducking to hide her face in Simmons’ hair. 

“You know, even the zodiac ships it,”

“Shut  _ up _ !”

* * *

“Oh my god, tiny scientists sleep  _ forever, _ ” Skye exclaimed impatiently later that afternoon as she lounged on the couch with Lincoln, waiting for the rest of them get up. “I know a part of me should be glad that the tiny ones are sleeping, for one, but at the same time,  _ they could at least have some caffeine! _ ” 

“What year is it?” Bobbi muttered as she emerged, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Did I pull a Rogers or something?” She stumbled towards the kitchen, muttering something about ‘damn experiments’ and ‘damn Jemma’ as she went. 

Lincoln turned to Skye, whose mouth was open. “Don’t,” he said warningly as her eyes geared up to make a quip towards the kitchen. 

But she was already there. “Betcha got s’more of that Smorse, Morse!” she called cheerfully. The tinkering of dishes in the kitchen went silent, and Skye got a sinking feeling in her stomach. “Oh, shit...”

“I told you so” was all Lincoln got out before Skye had to leap out of the chair like a woman possessed, shrieking as Bobbi peeled out of the kitchen with a knife in her hand. The ensuing chase could be heard all around the base as it made two laps before coming to a stop right outside the kitchen, Skye muttering prayers to Thor. 

“What in the heavens is going on?” Simmons exclaimed as she came to a stop in front of the kitchen. “Bobbi, what in the world are you doing with that knife?” She turned to Skye. “And Skye, what are you doing in the kitchen? Frankly, I’m surprised.” 

“Well, Bobbi here was just telling me how much she wanted s’more of - okay, okay, I’ll stop!” Skye threw her hands in the air as Bobbi waved the knife threateningly. “I won’t say anything, alright?” Bobbi glowered as she stepped into the kitchen, tossing the knife back into the drawer. Skye ran back towards Lincoln, cowering behind him with a whimper. 

“Is everyone awake?” May asked, striding in. Bobbi shook her head. 

“Hunter and Fitz are still out. They’ll be a few hours.”

“It’s been long enough,” Simmons said decisively, grabbing a water bottle and heading towards Fitz’s bunk.

_ “OI, JEM, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL -”  _ There was the slamming of a door before Simmons stepped out, a grin on her face. 

“They’ll be out in a moment.”

* * *

“So this is  _ joong _ . It’s a traditional food made during the new year.” Lincoln held up the finished wrapped leaves. “Usually, what’s in it varies with the culture, but all of them have some form of rice and leaves in them. Today, we’ll be using the Cantonese kind, with peanuts, eggs, pork belly, Chinese sausage, and tiny shrimp.” 

“You do as follows,” May said, stepping in front of Lincoln. She set two leaves in front of each other, one overlapping the other. “Three spoonfuls of rice and peanuts onto the leaves. Add egg, belly, sausage and shrimp as so.” She placed one of each on the rice. “Tuck two inches of the leaves. Fold. Roll. Tie with string.” With one yank of the knot, the  _ joong  _ was completed to ooh’s and aah’s, mostly from Skye and Hunter. 

“Normally, there’s an exchange among families after they’re done, but that’s  _ really  _ not happening, so we dyed your strings,” Coulson reeled off surprisingly, causing everyone to look at him. “What? I did the reading. Plus, I set the Academy record for most of these eaten in an hour. They had to drag me off of the couch.” 

“Now, I’m not expecting these to be as pretty as mine,” May smirked, pointing to her finished product. “But as long as nothing ends up falling out, I’ll still eat it nonetheless.” 

The agents set to work, Fitz and Simmons taking up the tasks like true try-hards. They precisely measured the rice, lined up the extras in linear form, and were nearly short of getting a ruler to make sure they’d folded exactly two inches. Over their heads, Hunter and Bobbi exchanged glances, silently communicating. 

“Jem, you know it doesn’t have to be so meticulous,” Bobbi pointed out as Simmons carefully eyed the string before cutting it. “It’s the thought of making it that counts.” She gestured to her own small pile, where several  _ joong  _ laid tied in navy blue string. On her other side, Hunter was gently taking Fitz aside, encouraging him to have a little fun with his form. 

“Bu’ it’s gotta be perfect,” Simmons murmured, still carefully folding her leaves. Several folds later, she was satisfied, reaching for her string with a smile. Bobbi made a face, but said nothing, turning back to her own pile of leaves and string. 

She didn’t notice how Simmons slyly stole one of her own colored strings, combining it with one of her own.

* * *

“Did you see that?” Skye whispered from two seats over as she folded her leaves wrong for what seemed like the hundredth time. She made a small noise as she re-folded them, turning the package over in her hands. “Simmons totally just grabbed one of Bobbi’s strings to use with hers!” She squealed quietly. “That’s so cute!” 

Lincoln sighed as he placed another completed  _ joong  _ into the pile. “I need to get you a T-shirt that says ‘number one shipper’,” he said. “But I gotta admit, what she did  _ was  _ a cute idea.” Skye turned to look at him, confusion in her eyes. He reached for two more leaves, setting them onto the table. “Make one together?” 

She grinned happily, and together, their combined hands scooped the rice in, lining up the extras before his hands carefully guided hers through the folds. Finally, when it was wrapped, she reached for one of her strings while he reached for his, and together, they wrapped it around the leaves, tying off the final knot. Still holding it, Lincoln leaned in for a light peck on the lips, still grinning. 

“Oh, get a room, you two,” Hunter scoffed without even looking up. “Any more and I’ll throw rice at you two.” Skye raised an eyebrow as she caught sight of Simmons nudging Fitz with her elbow, gesturing towards Hunter’s strings. Lincoln followed her motions, grinning when Fitz managed to steal one of Hunter’s strings to tie with his own. 

“Alright, first batches in,” May called, and each of them grabbed their trays, walking over to the stove to tip them in. The pots of  _ joong  _ boiled happily on the stove as May slipped covers on them, going back to her own wrappings. “I’m missing a few strings.” 

“Funny,” Bobbi remarked, looking through her own pile. “So am I.” Simmons and Coulson determinedly didn’t look up, although the former did seem to start wrapping her leaves a little more messily. 

“Coulson,” May deadpanned, and when he looked up, she smooshed a bit of rice onto his face. “That’s what you get for stealing my strings,” she retorted, and was promptly met with her own handful of rice. 

“You’ve started a war, May,” he said, scooping up some more rice for ammo. “I intend to win this one.” The handful of rice flew, but May ducked, hitting Hunter in the shoulder instead. 

“Well, now, that’s just insulting,” he scoffed, grabbing his own handful and letting it fly at the Director. Unfortunately, he hit Lincoln, who joined in. Soon, all of them were throwing rice at each other, gaining new enemies as they seemed to miss. 

Simmons had crawled under the tablecloth to hopefully escape the carnage, giggling a little as she found that Fitz had done the same thing. “Did you steal a few?” she asked him, and he shrugged. 

“A couple,” he said shortly, and Simmons glowed. “Doesn’t mean anythin, though.” 

“Oh,  _ Fitz, _ ” she scoffed gently, placing a hand on his shoulder seriously. “It means  _ everything _ .” They sat there for a while, absorbing the sounds of shouts and splattering rice, nearly jumping out of their skins when Joey crawled under the table, presumably to find shelter. 

“Wow, you two were smart,” he huffed, trying to wipe rice off of his face. “Apparently, being bulletproof doesn’t equate to being riceproof. Especially when your assailant’s the tallest one in the room.” 

“How’s it look out there?” Simmons asked, and Joey shuddered. 

“Skye and Lincoln have declared war on the director and May. Right now, I think it’s Inhumans, 3, SHIELD 0.” There was the sound of a splat, followed by a shout. “Better make that 3-1.” A war cry sounded through the air. “Oh, right, and Hunter and Morse are looking for you two.” 

Fitz shot Simmons a scared look. “Uh, Jem...”

“They can’t find us,” Simmons reassured him. “After all, the least logical place to look is closest to the battle, right?” 

Suddenly, there was silence. “Don’t. Breathe,” Joey said quietly to FitzSimmons, whose eyes were wide with terror. Without warning, the tablecloth lifted, and several handfuls of rice were splatted onto the three of them, causing the scientists to shout out in horror. 

“Come on guys, come out,” Bobbi called tantalizingly. “It’s no fun when there’s no new targets.” 

“Yeah, let us have a few shots at you,” Hunter added. Fitz sighed, muttering something like ‘never  _ can  _ say no to him’ before crawling out, letting loose a girly scream as Hunter chased after him, a handful of rice ready. 

“And then there were two,” Joey said quietly.    
  


“C’mon, Jem, truce?” Bobbi called, sticking her head into their ‘fortress’. “I promise not to splatter you!” 

“Promise?” Simmons asked. 

“Promise.” 

Of course, Bobbi broke that as soon as Simmons was standing. “You promised!” Simmons shrieked in horror as the rice stuck to her forehead. She scooped up another handful of rice. “I will  _ end  _ you, Barbara Morse!” Bobbi went pale and dashed off, followed by Simmons’ war cries. 

“Hell hath no fury like a tiny British woman,” Skye chortled. Just then, the timer dinged, and just like that, all grudges were forgotten as everyone scrambled to pick out a  _ joong  _ that wasn’t their color. Even Bobbi, Simmons, Hunter and Fitz returned, the taller SHIELD agents with rice in their hair.

“And the first one out of the pot is...Lincoln,” May announced as she plopped his onto a plate. “Let’s hope you live up to my mother’s,” she said warningly as she untied it, grabbing a knife and slicing the rice straight down the middle. Hunter was next, frowning as he drew out a double-stringed one. 

“Who tied one with mine and Fitz’s on it?” Fitz turned an odd shade of purple and looked away hurriedly. “Huh. Don’t really know whose it is, then, do we?” He turned to Fitz. “Guess we’d have to share, mate.” 

“Oh,” Fitz blurted, surprised. “O-okay. That’s fine.” 

“Huh. I got a double, too,” Bobbi murmured, drawing the still-dripping leaves out of the pot. “With mine  _ and  _ Jem’s.” She raised an eyebrow to the back of the line at Simmons, who blushed and looked at the floor. “You up to sharing, Dr. Simmons?” 

“Damn,” Coulson announced as he drew one of Skye’s, and automatically dug in sans fork. “Skye, I think you may have given Mrs. May a run for her money. This is amazing.” Skye blushed uncharacteristically at the comment, stuffing more rice into her mouth to compensate. 

May snorted. “You can call my mother to tell her that. I’m sure she’ll take it  _ fine  _ that her own granddaughter makes  _ joong  _ better than she does.” 

Skye choked on her rice. 


	4. firecrackers, pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which May and Lincoln bond like the pranksters they are.

“May, just  _ how  _ many boxes of firecrackers did you get from that store?” 

“Enough,” May smirked, looking up from unpacking the boxes as Lincoln stood in the doorway, counting the strands of bangers. “And then some.” She jerked a thumb to a particularly festive one. “You think we can pass it off as Chinese New Year mistletoe?”

“As much as I’d love to push that, I don’t think so,” he snorted, stepping carefully around the chains of fireworks. Stepping on one would mean an explosion of the entire Bus. “Where are our main areas?”

“So we’ve got three chains in the kitchen, three in the lounge, three in the bathrooms, three in the lab, and one in each bunk. Oh, and five in the garage,” May reeled off, ticking her fingers as she went. “And then we’ve got four leftover to put wherever we want.” 

“Put two more in the lab and two more in the bathrooms,” Lincoln answered automatically, knowing who he was going to scare. “Maybe we can scare Simmons and Morse into getting together.”

“I like the way you think,” May mused, digging through the supplies once more and grabbing a remote. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “This activates any of the firecrackers on the base. Let’s get the extra fireworks into the showers and labs, then head to the security room.” She picked up the extra firecrackers and slipped out of the room, leaving him alone.

“I’m going to actually have to choose who to scare first?” Lincoln whined as she slinked out. He sighed. “Damn.”

* * *

“Location status,” May commanded as she plopped into a swivelling chair beside Lincoln some time later. He’d been staring at the screens, trying to decide who to scare first. It’d been a tough choice between the scientists and Skye, seeing as either choice would produce the best reactions...

“Morse and FitzSimmons are asleep in the lab again,” he sighed. “Everyone else is in their bunks, save for Coulson. He’s in the bathroom. I kind of flashed over that really quickly.” May let out a laugh, fiddling with her remote as she looked over the screens. 

“Let’s get those three into bed,” she said finally, pushing the right buttons on her remote. “Ready?” Lincoln nodded, and she pushed a button. Both of them winced as the firecrackers went off, familiar with the noise even though it wasn’t in their immediate vicinity. 

May burst into laughter as Simmons let out an unladylike shriek and toppled off of her stool, Bobbi not close behind. Somehow, both of them ended up sprawled on the floor on top of each other, Simmons turning the color of a fire truck before hurriedly pushing herself off of Bobbi. 

“Morse, Simmons,” Lincoln leaned into the PA mic to address them both. “ _ Sleep _ .” Bobbi shot the middle finger at the camera as she left with Simmons in tow. “And not together!” 

“Fuck you, Campbell!” Bobbi’s faint voice could be heard as she (and presumably Simmons) passed the security room, followed by a boot to the door. “And you too, May! I know you’re in there!” 

“Try Simmons,” both of them deadpanned in unison, bursting into further laughter when Bobbi kicked at the door again. 

“Shut  _ up _ !” 

“Alright, Coulson next,” May chortled once Bobbi’s stomping had died down, and she was sleeping once more (albeit with Simmons, but you couldn’t win  _ everything _ ). “He still in the showers?” 

“You look, not me,” Lincoln insisted, covering his eyes as May pulled up the images of their communal bathroom. “I am  _ all  _ for not seeing the Director’s parts. However innocuous they may be.” May made a sound of admittance as she located the nearest firecracker. 

“You want the honors, Campbell?” Glad he didn’t have to look at a naked Coulson, Lincoln pressed the button, his eyebrows raising as the director produced a gun out of seemingly nowhere, hitting his head on the showerhead. 

“Ow,” he remarked. “That’s going to hurt later.” He watched as Coulson, scowling, replaced his gun and continued with his shower, rubbing his head absentmindedly.

* * *

**AC/DC (Coulson):** I think we need to have a talk about who’s setting off the firecrackers around the base. 

**Tremors (Skye):** Firecrackers? Why the hell are there firecrackers?

**Honorary Lab Rat (Bobbi):** I don’t know, Skye, you might want to ask your douche of a boyfriend.

**Tremors (Skye):** Whoa there, Morse, there’s a line. Don’t make me quake you off this plane.

**HLR (Bobbi):** It was  _ 6:30,  _ Skye. I'm running on  _ three  _ hours of sleep. 

**Pikachu (Lincoln):** Well, you could've gotten more than three if you'd hadn't been in the lab... 

**Lab Rat 1 (Jemma):** For your information, that substrate was absolutely  _ riveting _ , and we couldn't miss that enzyme-substrate complex release the reactants! 

**Tremors (Skye):** Yeah, sure, Jem, whatever you say. 

**LR 1 (Jemma):** -_- Just what  _ are  _ you saying, Skye? 

Skye rolled her eyes as she sipped her coffee, turning to rifle through the fridge. Did Simmons really not see how she was meant for Bobbi? Hell, even  _ Fitz  _ saw it, and he was the most oblivious person on earth. Maybe even the nine realms. 

_ BAM!  _

Skye jumped as a loud crack sounded through the kitchen, accidentally letting loose a seismic wave that rattled throughout the base. She watched as a couch and coffee table turned over, sending countless magazines to the ground. An unknown mug fell off of a shelf, shattering into pieces and seemingly alerting the rest of the team.    
  


“Skye, what did you  _ do _ ?” Fitz wailed as he ran in, stopping short at the sight the mug on the floor. “That wa’ the Grumpy Cat mug!” He looked at her in despair. “Tha’ was my Christmas gift last year!” 

“Why’d you put it on a shelf?” Skye sputtered in defense, throwing her hands into the air. “How was I supposed to know it was your  _ precious  _ Secret Santa gift from Hunter? Don’t you keep those sort of things in your room?”

Fitz looked at her curiously. “That was from Hunter?” Almost instantly, Skye realized her mistake and spluttered, trying to backtrack before she could screw up their potential for a relationship. 

“Actually, you know what, I’d better figure out what else the seismic wave broke,” she chuckled nervously, already ready to start edging out of the room. “Gotta fill out the paperwork before Coulson finds me, and you know how he gets about paperwork -!” As soon as she met the doorway, she turned and broke into a run. 

“Wow, it’s worse than Bob in here,” Hunter said as he approached the doorway, appraising the state of the room. His eye caught the small shards of mug on the floor, and he let out a whistle. “That’s tough, mate. You liked that mug, didn’t you?” When Fitz said nothing, he crossed the lounge, clapping the Scot on the back. “Come on. May and Lincoln have got a great operation running in the security room. Best we go see what’s going on in there.”

* * *

“Fitz!” Lincoln announced happily as Hunter and Fitz strode into the security room, the former with an arm slung around the latter. “Just the man I wanted to see!” 

“Me?” Fitz stuttered, pointing to himself. “Why would you want to see me?” He hadn’t spent much time with the Inhuman, but he knew the he made Skye happy, and that was really all he needed. Skye had helped him find happiness when he felt like he’d never have it again - she deserved to have some of that for herself. 

“You know the lab inside and out, right?” Lincoln asked eagerly. Fitz nodded, still confused as to what Lincoln would need his expertise for. He shifted to show Skye next to him, who was staring at the monitors like it would save her life.    


“Where’s the nearest smoke detector to the firecrackers?” she asked, pointing to the monitors. Fitz switched spots with Lincoln, peering at the monitors. 

“There,” He pointed at a nondescript corner just above his station. “It’d take a fairly strong explosion to set it off, though, ‘cause Jem kept setting it off for harmless smokes...” He caught the looks Skye, Lincoln and May were sending each other, frowning a little. “What’re you planning on doing?” 

“See that, Fitzy?” Skye teased, pointing to another monitor, this time in the center cluster. Bobbi and Simmons were sitting closely on the lab bench, looking into microscopes and excitedly trading theories back and forth. “That right there is a chemical reaction waiting to happen, and it just needs a spark to get set into motion. We will provide the spark.” Fitz raised an eyebrow at Skye’s correct usage of chemical reactions. 

“And what about Coulson?” The texts earlier  _ had  _ seemed slightly foreboding...

“I told him it was a tradition thing,” May waved a hand from where she was sitting. “Which it is. Technically. People used to use fireworks to scare off the spirits on their property, so they wouldn’t return the following year.” She grinned. “Of course, people still do, but now it’s an excuse for people to set off illegal fireworks more than anything.”

“Which you’re using now.” Fitz felt the need to point out the obvious. “But aren’t Jemma and Bobbi going to figure out it was you who got them locked down in the lab?”

“I figure we’ll deal with that later,” Lincoln and Skye shrugged in unison, the former handing Fitz the remote. “You want the honors, Fitz?”

“Hold up,” Hunter protested right before Fitz was about to push the button. He briefly covered Fitz’s hand in his, ignoring the protests of the engineer. “I want to see her happy, too.” 

“Even though you basically call her a giant harpy once a week?” Skye quipped. “Real mature of you, Hunter.  _ Real  _ mature.” 

“Yeah, so we’d better do this before I change my mind.”

* * *

Simmons shifted as she felt Bobbi’s knee nudge hers, immediately moving away so that the older woman had more room. Squinting, she refocused her gaze on the specimen currently on her slide. It was some sort of extremophile that somehow contained a whole spectrum of enzymes, some of which weren’t even affected by noncompetitive inhibitors or allosteric ones, and was really quite unlike anything she’d ever seen -

Bobbi’s knee nudged hers again. 

Okay, so maybe there were some more riveting things. 

“Bobbi?” she asked quietly, and the other woman looked up from her own microscope. “Was there something you needed?” 

“Hm?”

“You keep nudging my knee.” 

“Oh,” Bobbi apologizes, scooting away. “Sorry, sometimes I forget that I’m not the only one in the lab. Really bad habit for someone with long legs, I know.” 

Simmons was  _ about  _ to say she hadn’t minded when a large  _ crack  _ sounded from the rear of the lab. 

_ BOOM!  _

The initial boom was followed by a loud series of crackles and pops, flashes of light burning up as they turned to see a string of firecrackers burning its way up to a large medallion. Simmons sighed as the last of the firecrackers went up in smoke. “Of  _ course  _ Lincoln and May would pick the traditions that were heavily obnoxious. I’m sure it was more Lincoln’s idea than May’s, but the idea remains...”

“I don’t think we have evil spirits in the lab,” Bobbi frowned, striding over to examine the charred remains of the firework. Simmons followed her, stopping short as Bobbi bent over to pick up a scrap of red paper. “Well, either that or we just chased out one we didn’t have.” 

Suddenly, an alarm began to blare, lights flashing red, and both women watched in horror as large metal plates slid in front of the lab doors, any unnecessary lights being automatically shut off. This meant that both of them were plunged into darkness, save for the eerie red lights flashing above their heads. 

Simmons automatically reached out for Bobbi, grasping her arm in a deathly tight grip when she found it. “What’s going on?” 

“I think we’re on lockdown,” Bobbi answered haltingly, wincing at Simmons’ grip on her arm. “Jem, d’you think - d’you think you could -?”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Simmons immediately lessened her grip on Bobbi’s arm, although still holding it in a loose grip. “What do you think caused it?”

“If I wanted to guess, probably some smoke from the explosion,” Bobbi mused, drawing Simmons closer to her as to not lose the tiny scientist. “Must’ve triggered the smoke alarm. Which can only mean one thing.” 

Simmons nodded, already figuring out a plan in her head. “Lincoln is  _ dead  _ to me.” 

“I was going to say that we’ll be stuck here for a couple of hours, but that works, too,” Bobbi chuckled. “But hey, at least we’re stuck here together, right?”

“R-r-right. Completely platonically,” Simmons stuttered, her heart stumbling out a few beats. She’d be in an enclosed area. For a long period of time. With  _ Bobbi _ . “I’m sure we’ll be j-j-just fine.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Bobbi encouraged, reaching for her phone to turn on the flashlight. The fear was illuminated in Simmons’ eyes, and her gaze softened. “Hey, Jem, look at me,” she reassured, taking Simmons’ chin in her other hand. “Jem, we’re going to be fine, and we’ll be out before you know it, okay?”

Simmons nodded, shaking slightly. “O-o-okay,” 

Bobbi still wasn’t convinced. “D’you need a hug?” When Simmons answered with another frantic nod, Bobbi made a quiet noise, drawing Simmons into her arm. She could feel the younger scientist’s nose digging into her abdomen, but it wasn’t a completely unpleasant feeling. Bobbi was almost tempted to rub comforting circles on Simmons’ back, but restrained herself - there was a line, and then there was a  _ line.  _ “Shh,” she comforted, trying to calm Simmons’ shaking. “You’re going to be fine, Jem.”

* * *

“Awwww!” Skye squealed, clapping her hands as she jumped up and down in her seat. “They’re adorable!”

May sent Lincoln a deadpan look. “Tell me you bought that shirt.” 

“Just bought it yesterday. You know they’re probably going to kill us.” 

“They can’t kill us!” Skye insisted. “We chased the evil spirit of their sexual tension out of the lab! They’ll  _ have  _ to love us after that! That is, if they’re together after that,” She frowned as the night vision on the security cameras flipped on, showing Bobbi and Simmons in an embrace. Skye poked the screen. “Just kiss already!”

As if she’d heard her, Bobbi turned to look up at the security camera, death written into her eyes as she gave them a glare that had them all quailing, save for May. Then, the screen fizzled black, Skye’s cheerful demeanor quickly draining from her face. Frantically, she poked at the buttons, trying to figure out what was going on. 

“May?” she asked, panicked. “Are we getting hacked?” 

“SKYE. JOHNSON.” Skye turned pale, deciding whether she should bolt from her chair or not. “LINCOLN, YOU LITTLE SHIT. AND YOU TOO, MAY.” Lincoln went white while May simply looked unfazed, checking the state of her nails. 

‘Run on three?’ he mouthed to Skye, who nodded so fast it was nearly a blur. 

However, there was no time for three as a knife flew into the security room. 

“ _ YOU THREE ARE DEAD TO ME!”  _


	5. blind dim sum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the team gets caught up on the intricacies of dim sum. Only blindfolded.

“Skye. Wake up. Skye.” 

“Go ‘way, Pikachu,” Skye batted away Lincoln’s careful hand, pulling the covers up further over her head. “Too early.”

“Skye it’s important,” Lincoln insisted, now gently pulling at the duvet. “You gotta get up before May realizes I’m helping you out.” 

“You couldn’t wait another hour?” Skye yanked the duvet back, cocooning herself even further. “I don’t even know what time it is.” She cracked an eye open. “Is the sun up yet?” 

“It will be in an hour.” 

“Then come back  _ in  _ an hour,” Skye retorted sleepily. “What’s so important that you couldn’t come back in an hour?”

“One, I love you, which is why I’m making you get up so early,” Lincoln began, inching back the duvet once more. This time, Skye offered no resistance, smiling at the words. He leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. “Second, we’re going to blind  _ dim sum  _ today, so God forbid I let you eat cow intestines or something. Get up so I can run you through dishes.” 

“Okay,” Skye murmured quietly, turning to Lincoln and sitting up. “But only because you said you loved me.” 

“Thattagirl. Now hurry up before the food gets cold.”

* * *

“Morning, Jem,” Skye muttered as she padded into the kitchen, the scientist already seated at the breakfast bar. “Lincoln invite you too?” Simmons pulled a kitchen stool out for her, nodding, and Skye took a seat, beaming as her friend presented her with a cup of coffee. “Bless you, Jem,” She inhaled the dark, bitter aroma. Her favorite. “So tell me what’s going on with you and Bobbi.” 

Simmons squeaked in surprise, clearly not having expected such an interrogation so early in the morning. “There’s nothing to tell,” she said, her voice going up two octaves higher than usual. “Absolutely nothing at all.” 

“Skye, didn’t I say to wait until you were  _ at least  _ three dishes in to start asking the poor girl about her love life?” Lincoln was busy tinkering at the kitchen counter, bringing two plates chock-full of food placing them onto the table. “Besides, it’s not like she’d give you a straight answer anyways.” 

“Hey!” Simmons exclaimed. 

“Ready?” Lincoln asked, seating himself across from the two women. They nodded. “Okay, pick one.” Simmons and Skye glanced at each other before unanimously deciding on a small, round tart with a center the color of the sun. “This one’s a  _ daan taat, _ ” he said, picking it up and biting into it. “Basically, it’s an egg tart. Generally eaten for dessert, and good for anyone unless you’ve got an egg allergy. Next?” 

Simmons looked at Skye, who let her eyes skip over the random pieces of food before she picked out a round, translucent oval dumpling with crinkled sides. “This one?” 

“Good choice,” Lincoln approved, forking two and handing one to each of them. As they bit into them, he said, “That’s a  _ har gow,  _ and it’s basically shrimp. In a dumpling wrapper. Now, there are a bunch of variations of things that can be put into said dumpling wrapper.” He pointed to several other looking dumplings. “In general, they’re called  _ zing gau.  _ Shrimp, vegetables, any combo of the two.” Skye and Simmons nodded, committing the names to memory. 

“Aren’t there two dialects, though?” Simmons asked. When Skye and Lincoln looked at her, she drew back slightly. “May uses Mandarin and Cantonese sometimes interchangeably when she’s yelling at Coulson.” 

Lincoln nods. “I’m giving you the Canto ones because that’s the dialect that’s going to be spoken today, but if you hear Mandarin being spoken, I wouldn’t try anything that comes after that. As it is, I don’t know Mandarin, so...” Simmons nods, reaching for a cylindrical piece of food with tiny orange spheres sprinkled on top. 

“Is this  _ siu mai _ ?”

“Do I  _ want  _ to know where you got that knowledge?” Skye asked, eyeing Simmons doubtfully. Simmons cheerfully popped the  _ siu mai  _ into her mouth, exclaiming satisfactorily. 

“If you made this, Lincoln, it’s exceptional,” she praised, grinning before she turned to Skye. “My mum took me to  _ dim sum  _ once for my sixteenth birthday. It’s one of the only foods I remember eating because I took such a liking to it.”

“Right you are, Simmons,” Lincoln said, popping a piece of his own into his mouth. “Again, this is just shrimp with the occasional vegetable mixed into it, but the wrapper’s rounder and thinner. Usually comes on a cart with  _ har gow,  _ so if you hear the two in a row, eat those.” 

“What about carbs?” Skye asked, lifting a small, petaled white bun off of the plate. She peered at the maroon-colored meat inside of it. “Do I want to know what’s inside?” 

“Pork,” Lincoln answered easily, taking the bun from Skye and peeling the wrapper off of the bottom before handing it back to her. He split it in thirds, handing a petal each to Simmons and Skye before taking a bite himself. “This is a  _ char siu bow, _ ” he explained, his cheeks puffed full with bun. “This is the only carb you’ll eat at an entire dim sum, save for a  _ lai wong bow,  _ but people tend to stay away from those on the carts.” He chanced a look at the clock. “Okay, so we’ve got to get through a few more foods before we get to the stuff you  _ don’t  _ want to eat.” He pointed to an oblong mass of noodles. “This is  _ cheong fun,  _ the most  _ dim sum  _ of  _ dim sum  _ foods you’re going to get, other than  _ har gow  _ and  _ siu mai _ .” He grabbed a fork and split it into pieces. “Either shrimp or beef wrapped in rice noodles, eaten with soy sauce. There’s another complicated version, but it’s only eaten with congee, and May’s not a fan. Neither am I.” Simmons and Skye nodded, digging in. 

“Now, let’s get to the food that you  _ don’t  _ want to end up eating,” He pointed to a brown-looking claw. “That’s  _ tau zi fong zao _ ,” he said, picking one up and biting into it. There was an audible  _ crunch. _ “Chicken feet.” Skye went pale, reaching for another  _ daan taat  _ to avoid looking at it. “ _ Ngau pak yip, _ ” He pointed to another dish, this time filled with long white, bumpy strips. “Cow intestines. Tripe, if you will.” Both Simmons and Skye involuntarily choked on seemingly thin air, each of them reaching for more food immediately. 

“Please tell me we’re not eating chicken liver or anything,” Skye pleaded as she swallowed another  _ siu mai _ . “I swear I’m leaving if that’s a thing.” 

“That’s about it for things you want to avoid,” Lincoln said, getting off of his stool to return to the stove. “There’s one more dessert, though,” He scooped a milky white substance out of the pot, ladling it into a bowl and setting it down. Next came a smaller bowl of a honey-colored syrup, and both were set down in front of them. 

Simmons looked at it doubtfully. “We’re not eating some sort of excrement, are we?”

Lincoln let out a laugh. “Good one, Simmons, but no. This is actually tofu,” he said, and both of them brightened. Finally, something they recognized! “It’s sweet tofu with a ginger and rock candy syrup,” He pointed to the smaller bowl. “You ladle in the syrup and then eat it with a ladle. It’s called  _ dow fu fah,  _ and you usually don’t eat it until you’re done with the meal.” He looked at it enviously. “Damn. I haven’t had some for a while.” Skye giggled, and, scooping some up, fed some to him. 

“Well, I really must be going,” Simmons said hastily, scooting her stool back from the island. She didn’t want to be privy to the PDA that was sure to occur. “Got to look after some experiments and all that. Also, Lincoln, you might want to get rid of the giant pot in the sink. You don’t want to make May suspicious. Thank you!” she chirped as she headed down the hallway.

* * *

“Blindfolds on,” May commanded later that day as they all sat down in the bustling dim sum restaurant, chatter filling their ears amid the clanking of the carts. They all obeyed, Lincoln sending Simmons and Skye a sidelong glance before sliding his blindfold on. “Oh, come off it. Campbell, Morse,” she scoffed. “There’s no point in you two wearing blindfolds. You already know what I’m going to order anyways.” 

Bobbi and Lincoln whipped off their blindfolds, the former casting a look of glee at Hunter before whipping out her phone to take several pictures. 

She was going to make him eat chicken feet today, she was sure of it. If there was one thing Hunter hated, it was chicken feet. And maybe she’d get Simmons some  _ dow fu fah  _ to prove how sweet she was on the tiny scientist.  _ God, Morse,  _ she winced to herself.  _ That was cheesy. Note to self: ICER myself if I  _ ever  _ say things like that again.  _

The first cart came around with the call of “ _ Har gow, siu mai _ !” and May’s voice cut through the din as she promptly ordered in dizzying Cantonese, conversing rapidly with the server as several little steamers of both dishes were placed onto the table. “Alright,” she said to everyone. “Eat up.” 

As everyone reached for the dishes (some of them pushing into the sides of the dishes instead of into them), Skye melted away from them, staring at her plate. From her initial feel around the table, there hadn’t been a single fork within reach, only chopsticks. The double sticks felt unfamiliar to her, and she withdrew her hand, waiting for everyone else to reach for their foods first. 

“Skye?” May, who was seated next to her, asked. “What’s wrong?” Skye bit her lip nervously, shame flooding her face. Here she was, sitting next to the woman she called a mother, and completely unable to use a vital tool. 

“I can’t use chopsticks,” she admitted, hanging her head sadly. She slumped into her chair, fighting back tears in order to not humiliate herself further in front of May. “I don’t know how.” Despite herself, a single tear ran down her face, quickly absorbing into the blindfold.

Then May was gently undoing the knot at the back of her head, a finger to her lips as Skye blinked, light streaming into her eyes. For the first time, she could appreciate the scene around her: red covered nearly every inch of the walls, save for the occasional enlarged photo of a city skyline, some golden dragons mounted on the walls, and the large windows to her right. The servers were all clad in red, pushing metal carts stacked to the brim with small wooden bowls. “I figured Campbell told you everything you needed to know,” she said wryly. “It’s not like it would be a surprise for you, anyways.” 

“It thoroughly meets my standards for Chinese fare,” Skye quipped dryly. “All that’s missing is the gong.” Somehow, Coulson’s hand found her shoulder, smacking it. 

“Be nice,” he chided between mouthfuls of  _ siu mai _ . “Those belong in Japanese restaurants, Skye.” 

“Well, they all use chopsticks, so they all blur together,” Skye waved a hand, nearly smacking Coulson in the face. “I’ve never really been to any of them.” 

“Here,” May said gently, picking up the chopsticks. “You hold the first one in your hand like a pencil,” she began, inserting the first one into Skye’s waiting hand. It fit easily, like a key sliding into a slot. “And then you hold the second one between your first and second finger, and just move them like this.” She slid the second chopstick into Skye’s hand, picking up her own pair to demonstrate. To her delight, Skye adapted easily, a delighted smile spreading across her face. 

“Just like that?” 

“Just like that,” May affirmed, smiling herself. “Now go ahead and reach for the  _ har gow _ .” 

_ “Char siu bow! Fong zao!”  _ May spoke once again in rapid Cantonese, ordering enough so that everyone would be able to have a piece. May reached for one, plopping a bun onto Skye’s plate before grabbing one of her own. Across the table, she found Bobbi encouraging Hunter to take a bite of a chicken foot, a grin on her face. 

“Look, Hunter, I promise it’s not that bad,” she cajoled, nudging him. “It’s kind of salty, but that’s the fun part. I’ll even eat one with you!” Hunter gave out a loud sigh before reaching out in unison with Bobbi to grab a chicken foot, each of them touching it to their plate. Just before it was due to go into their mouths, Bobbi left hers on the plate, leaving Hunter to consume it alone. 

His reaction as spontaneous. Several bones littered the plate as he spit it out with a loud sound, muttering curses upon curses under her breath. Bobbi held his blindfold to his eyes to prevent him from lifting it off of his eyes. “Bloody hell, Bob, what was that?” he spluttered, chugging his cup full of tea. “Did you just try to kill me?” 

“Hope you had a nice chicken foot, Hunter,” she giggled, laughing when Hunter spluttered even more at the idea of having just eaten a chicken foot. She was still giggling when the next cart went by, taking the opportunity to snag Hunter’s bun. 

_ “Ngau pak yip!”  _

Skye grinned as Simmons, though blindfolded, perked up at the sound of Bobbi conversing with the server, a tiny blush on her face growing as the plates hit the table. Bobbi looked over, grinning shyly as she turned her gaze to the tripe. 

The grin turned to a grimace of horror as Fitz reached for the tripe eagerly, piling a few chopstickfuls onto his plate. She looked around. Wasn’t anyone going to tell Fitz what he was eating?

Apparently not. 

Fitz happily swallowed a few mouthfuls before he took a pause, swigging down some hot water and pouring himself some more. “Tha’s really good, May,” he said cheerfully. “What was it?” May smirked to herself before answering. 

“Tripe. Cow intestines.” 

There was a loud splutter as Fitz scrubbed at his tongue, making noises of protest. The entire table burst into laughter, Mack’s booming laugh heard several tables over. 

“Guess you should be a little more careful about what you eat, then,” he said good-naturedly, patting Fitz on the back while chuckling. Fitz just pouted.

* * *

It was a half hour later when May called for the check, allowing everyone to take off their blindfolds. Hunter and Fitz still looked pale from having had to eat chicken feet and tripe, respectively, while Skye just chuckled to herself. She played with a pair of chopsticks, clicking them back and forth in amazement at her new skill. 

Quietly, Bobbi called a server over, making several motions while conversing with the server in a low voice. Narrowing her eyes, Skye focused on the air around them, trying to hear what they were saying. She didn’t catch most of it, but caught the words ‘ _ dow fu fah’  _ while Bobbi gestured to Simmons, and Skye released the area, smiling. They really were adorable. 

Later, when Simmons found the small glass bowls of tofu and syrup outside her bunk with the attached note reading ‘ _ Extra syrup for someone extra sweet’,  _ she let a goofy smile blossom onto her face before carefully picking up the bowls and carrying them into her room.

Bobbi watched from the corner, a hand covering a smitten smile on her face. 


	6. fun shi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May treats the team to a food feast. Unfortunately, there are fights over said food...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for gun violence and school shootings. if this is something you'd like to skip past, it's basically that jemma was a part of a horrendous school shooting in her past and an alarm in the lab comes back to haunt her.

Simmons awoke blearily to the sound of alarms blaring throughout the lab, lifting her off of the lab table just in time to see the metal plates closing over the glass doors, the lights going out. She inhaled quaveringly, wrapping her arms around herself so as to not dissolve into a full blown panic attack. Nothing helped, however, and she began to hyperventilate, sinking to the ground as she began to shake uncontrollably. 

She jumped as gunshots rang in her ears, letting out a strangled sob that she quickly stifled. Simmons had never been one for lockdowns - she doubted anyone was - but pitch-black ones were the worst, clear reminders of the school shooting she’d once had to endure when she was merely a third-year. 

If she concentrated hard enough, she could hear the panicked screams of those who ran by in the hallways, of those who hadn’t been fortunate enough to be in a room when the shooting had started. Simmons shuddered as she heard bodies thud to the floor, her trepidation increasing at the thought of being next. 

“Jem?” 

Without thought, Simmons struck out with a cry, her fist connecting solidly with someone’s nose. Emboldened by the hit, she flailed at the spot with both of her fists, sobbing as she did so. 

“Jem!” The other person grabbed her wrists, spurring Simmons on further to struggle against the grip. She was going to die, she knew. Just like everyone else had. Just like she’d meant to...

“JEM!” Suddenly, Bobbi’s face filled Simmons’ blurred vision, and the sobs turned to tiny gasps as the present came back to her, all blaring alarms and swirling red lights. Bobbi was indeed the one holding her wrists, sporting what looked like a bloody nose to boot. “Are you gonna hit me again, or can I let go?” 

“Bobbi!” she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She hadn’t meant for anyone to see her like this! “Oh, my goodness, I am so sorry I just punched you in the nose, reflex, really, I generally don’t punch people people in the nose in the dark, could we possibly just forget this entire incident ever happened?” 

Bobbi groaned as she reset her nose with a hard dig of the heel of her hand. “No,” she groaned, wiping the excess blood off of her face. “I just broke my nose and reset it; I think you owe me an explanation as to  _ why  _ it was broken in the first place.” 

At that, Simmons drew away hastily, the lingering tremors beginning to resume in full force. Bobbi noticed, reaching up to grab sanitizer (her memory of the lab’s layout was  _ perfect _ ) and scrubbing her hands clean before she reached for Simmons. Simmons flinched away from the touch, tears tracks drying down her face as she sniffled. “‘S nothing, Bobbi. I’m perfectly fine.” 

“You are  _ not  _ fine,” Bobbi hissed. “You punched me in the  _ nose,  _ Jemma Simmons, and I demand to know why.” When Simmons still showed no sign of answering, Bobbi gritted her teeth, drawing the smaller woman into her arms. She was still shaking, Bobbi noticed, just like she had a few days ago. 

“I was j-j-just a third-year,” Simmons stuttered, and Bobbi paused, about to shift so that the scientist would’ve been able to sit in her lap. “I w-w-w-was only eight.” There was a glassy look in her eyes as she continued. “They came through my hallway and gunned everyone down. I hid behind a desk and listened to everyone scream as they fell.” 

Bobbi stayed silent, wanting to let Simmons speak it through. 

“They thought everyone was dead,” Simmons whispered, her voice nearly silent among all of the alarms. “It took them twelve hours to find me. By then, I’d passed out from hunger. They thought  _ I _ was dead.”

It certainly explained a lot, Bobbi mused. Simmons’ breakdowns during lockdowns. Her tendency to constantly keep food by her side. She tightened her arms around Simmons as the other girl burst into tears, trying to make herself smaller than she already was. “Shhh, Jem,” she murmured, lifting a hand to rub circles on Simmons’ back. “I’m right here. It’s alright. I’m right here.” 

Just then, Bobbi’s phone rang, and she carefully stretched to pick it up, annoyance coloring her tone. “You better have a good reason for this lockdown, May.” 

_ “Not May,” _ Skye answered sheepishly on the other end. “ _ But I can tell you that your lockdown’s because May accidentally set off the smoke alarm in the kitchen. She’s cooking with Lincoln.”  _

“Well, how long until the lockdown gets lifted?” Bobbi snarled. “I got a crying scientist in here that’s have PTSD flashbacks!” 

At that, Simmons lifted her head apologetically. “Sorry, Agent Morse.” 

“Jemma,” Bobbi said gently but forcefully. “What did I tell you?” 

Simmons hiccupped. “B-B-Bobbi,”

“ _ Is that Jemma? _ ” Skye asked frantically. “ _ Is she alright? _ ” 

“I’ll be f-f-fine, Skye,” Simmons tried to reassure her friend over the phone. “Just had a little scare, is all.”

“She broke my nose,” Bobbi emphasized forcefully so Skye didn’t get the wrong idea. “How long until the lockdown’s lifted?”

There was some chatter on the other end of the line before she got an answer.  _ “‘Bout twenty minutes. _ ” 

Bobbi sighed. Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes with an emotionally exposed Jemma Simmons. She could do this. Totally. Completely without revealing her feelings and pushing her away more.  _ Yeah. I’ve got this in the bag.  _

Twenty minutes later, when the lockdown lifted, and sunlight streamed into the lab once more, Simmons had already fallen asleep in Bobbi’s arms. Bobbi took one glance at Simmons and at her knee, then sighed. Slowly, she began to push her knee up, lifting Simmons as she did so. 

The other girl awoke just as Bobbi made it onto her feet, her eyes fluttering open sleepily. “Wha...Bobbi?” 

“Shhh,” Bobbi reassured her, unconsciously kissing Simmons on the forehead. “Go back to sleep, Jem.” 

“Mmph...’kay,” Quietly, Bobbi overrode the lock into Simmons’ bunk, striding in and carefully but quickly changing her friend into comfier clothes before tucking her in. (If she’d taken a little longer than necessary at some points...well, no one said she was superhuman.)

“Stay?” 

Bobbi froze halfway to the door at Simmons’ voice. “Stay?” she asked quaveringly. 

“Mmhmm,” Simmons murmured, the vulnerability clearly written into her voice. “Stay,” 

Bobbi didn’t waste a second before she was over by the edge of the bed, stripping off her shoes before climbing in.

* * *

“I call not having to do dishes!” was the first thing Joey squawked as he walked into the kitchen. There was a giant pile of pots, pans and plates stacked to the ceiling, a pile of steam rising from them. “I nominate Mack!” 

“Oh no you don’t,” Mack warned as he followed Joey into the kitchen. “Those are all on Hunter. I insist. My treat.” 

“Anyone ever told you you’re an absolute treasure, Mack?” Hunter scowled as he caught sight of the large dish pile. “No, this one’s definitely on May. And Lincoln. It’s their bloody fault I ate chicken feet yesterday.”

“Oh my god, Hunter, are you  _ still  _ salty about that?” Skye exclaimed as she walked into the kitchen. “Whoa,” she said, stopping short at the pile of dishes they were all staring at. “What’s going on here? Is someone trying to build the leaning tower of dishes?” 

“May’s cooking, I think,” Joey said faintly. “She’s making Chinese New Year foods.” True to his word, a waft of steam emanated from the stove, followed by the banging of pots and pans. May was chopping at the countertop, humming under her breath.

“Everyone back away,” Hunter warned. “May humming is never a good sign. All of us turn and run as fast as we can and never speak of this again. Agreed?” They all nodded, turned, and ran. Joey couldn’t contain his shriek, however, and it echoed down the hallway as they fled. 

Except for Skye. 

“Hey, A.M!” she chirped, bouncing up beside the older agent. “Whatcha making?” May smiled at Skye’s youthful exuberance. It was something she still wished she had, to be honest; it’d made a small comeback during her chase of the chicken, but the true aches and pains were beginning to set in. 

“Well, right now, this is  _ jai _ ,” she said, gesturing to the bowl. There were a multitude of vegetables mixed into it, including sugarsnap peas, mushrooms, and lotus seeds. “It’s a mix of eight different vegetables that represent different blessings in the new year. Remember why?”

“Eight’s the lucky number,” Skye rattled off dutifully, beaming at the older agent. May laughed. 

“Good,” she chuckled, reaching over to wash her hands over the tap. “After I finish the  _ jai _ , it’s on to the fish, the  _ chăo fàn,  _ the egg rolls, the sweet and sour chicken, some  _ choy _ , probably some more  _ dow fu fah _ , and the  _ fun shi _ . I’m going to need some help catching the fish. You and Campbell want to go down to the nearest lake and get me one?” 

“You mean you didn’t get one from the supermarket?” Skye asked. “I’m not sure I’d trust myself in a lake, May,” she said warningly. “I’m not even sure I trust  _ Lincoln  _ in a lake. He’d try to see if he could electrocute himself.” 

“I saw the fish in the freezer, May,” Lincoln deadpanned. “Just use that one. I happen to know that I’ll electrocute myself if I step into a lake.” Skye rolled her eyes at May as if to say,  _ See? I knew he’d tried it at some point.  _

_ “Fine,  _ I'll use the frozen one,” May mocked, moving over to the stove as the timer  _ dinged _ . The sugar snap peas were done, and they were thrown into a wok with a sizzle. “I would've thought you understood, Campbell. Fresh fish, you know.”

“ _ Fine _ ,” Lincoln relented. “I'll go find someone to get a fish.” He turned to Skye. “What d'you think the odds are that I can convince Hunter and Fitz to go fishing?”

Skye snorted. “If you can get them to do  _ that _ , I'll pay you.” 

* * *

Several hours later, the kitchen island was burdened with several dishes, each of them alone enough to feed a small army. The center plate was May's pride and joy, a large plate of rice vermicelli mixed with scallions, Chinese sausages, and tiny shrimp. She grinned, knowing it was Coulson's favorite. “FOOD, YOU LITTLE RUNTS,” she hollered, and there was a mad scramble as everyone dashed into the kitchen. 

Skye gleefully picked up her chopsticks and a plate, ready to dig in. Fitz and Hunter surveyed the spread, sighing in quiet relief as they recognized everything. True to May's prediction, Coulson was hungrily eying the  _ fun shi,  _ chopsticks in hand. 

Bobbi and Simmons were the last to enter, the latter with sleepy, puffed eyes. Skye took one look at them and gave Bobbi a concerned look. Bobbi shook her head in return. 

“In honor of the new year, there are eight lucky dishes,” May announced, gesturing across the table. “In the center we've got  _ fun shi _ , the rice vermicelli with Chinese sausages and scallions, and the  _ chao fàn _ , which you might know better as fried rice. The pile of vegetables is  _ jai,  _ eight because of the lucky number. Other than that, you know everything else. And don't be afraid of the fish,” she deadpanned, looking at Hunter and Fitz. “I don't care what experience you had over catching it, but get over it.”

“Can we dig in yet, May?” Coulson asked eagerly. May rolled her eyes, knowing he just wanted the  _ fun shi _ . He was actually bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

“Just go, Phil.” 

The chatter roared up again as each of them reached over and around to get the dishes they wanted, piling their plates with heaps of food. Amid the chaos, Skye elbowed her way over to Bobbi, who was putting together a plate for Simmons. 

“What happened?”

“Did you know she was part of one of the worst school shootings in British history?” Bobbi asked suddenly, stopping to turn to Skye. When the other woman shook her head, she continued. “I looked it up. Ten people survived in that school.  _ Ten.  _ She was only  _ eight. _ ” Her grip shook on the plate. “She didn't go to bed last night, so I took up the couch in the lab to keep watch over her. When the alarms went off this morning, she had a panic attack, Skye. It happened the last time, too. I'm worried.”

“I'm sure there's no one she'd rather have by her side, Bobbi,” Skye answered truthfully. “You're good for her.” That tidbit of Simmons’ past scared her, though, and she was silent as she scooped more fried rice onto her plate. 

As all of the agents munched away, the latest gradually emptied, beers being opened and poured. Mack even took the opportunity to break out his prized brew, which he and Joey had been working on for the last month. Joey blushed as Mack called it ‘The Metalmelter' to a round of good-natured laughs. 

First, they ran out of rice, which was taken in stride. Then it was the egg rolls, which was met with a few protests when Lincoln took the last one. May cleaned out the fish and  _ jai _ in succession, Fitz grimacing in horror as she poked at the fish cheek before eating the eyeball. 

When they ran out of  _ fun shi _ , however, they all stared at the last bowl, side-eyeing it. Skye kept a close eye on Coulson, ready to spring if need be. He'd eaten way too many bowls. That last one was going to be hers. 

Silence reigned in the air as the rest of them stared at the contest between Skye and Coulson, silently exchanging money in their heads. 

One beat. Two. 

Then, with a war cry, Skye seized the last bowl of noodles, dashing out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Coulson let out a shout and dashed after her, the rest of the agents meandering after them interestedly. 

“I bet you Skye's gonna keep the bowl,” Hunter muttered to Fitz, who nodded in agreement. “Ever tried to grab something out of that girl's hands? Got a death grip, she's got.”

“ _ LINCOLN, HELP!”  _ Skye's cry came from down the hallway, and Lincoln dashed after her, pushing Coulson against the wall. As he made pace with her, panting, she said, “I need you to distract him!” Lincoln made a face before he sparked at the lighting fixtures, causing them to fizzle and go out. Coulson paused and looked up, giving Skye another boost as she tore down the hallway. 

She ended up in her bunk with him, huddled and panting. Quietly, she heard Coulson's footsteps hurry past her bunk before fading away. She crouched still for a moment before standing up and heading to her bunk. Cheerfully, she pulled out two pairs of chopsticks. “To Chinese New Year,” she said, holding out the bowl. 

“To Chinese New Year,” he repeated, and they dug into the bowl, silently slurping at the noodles. They were soon down to the last piece of Chinese sausage, staring at it. 

“Do  _ you  _ want the last piece of sausage?” Skye asked finally, prodding it with her chopsticks. 

“You can have it,” Lincoln offered, poking it towards her. “I've had too many today. You deserve it.”

Coulson burst into the room, his chest heaving. “GIVE. ME. THE.  _ FUN. SHI. _ ”

Skye flipped him the last piece of sausage. 


	7. red envelopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red envelopes contain lucky money, and packs of two are usually given to every child and unmarried person. Fives and twenties are common, and when you receive them, you're supposed to collect them with two hands. 
> 
> Oh, and it's Valentine's Day. Naturally.

_ I can’t be out, I can’t be out, all I need is two more envelopes... _

May frowned as someone brushed past her quickly, turning to see Lincoln tearing down the hallway like a man possessed. “Campbell?” she called curiously, raising an eyebrow. “It’s nearly midnight. You become the new Quicksilver or something?”

“I haven’t done my envelopes yet!” he hollered back. “I did all the valentines, but I didn’t do the envelopes! I swear I had enough! I just need two more!” 

“I’ve got two to spare,” she called back, and there was an audible sound as Lincoln stopped, doubling back to May. She fished two red envelopes out of her jacket pocket, checking them for any extra money before handing them to him. “Here.” 

“Thanks, May! You’re a lifesaver!” he called before dashing off once more. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” 

May froze, going cold. “ _ VALENTINE’S DAY?!”  _ She speedwalked towards a calendar, frantically flipping through the days to make sure Lincoln had been right.  _ Oh, no _ . If there was any other holiday she was to throw a fit about, it was Valentine’s Day. It was always the unexpected holidays she got behind, Coulson had told her once. 

If Melinda May was doomed to be alone forever, she would  _ damn  _ sure that no one else would suffer the same fate she did. 

Slapping down the calendar pages, she let out a sigh, dashing off towards the inventory. She’d planned to pull an early night, but  _ nope,  _ apparently living in an underground base had deprived her of all sense of time. And now it was a few minutes before Valentine’s Day and she had to come up with gifts for everyone...

* * *

“I hate Valentine’s Day,” Hunter muttered as he schlepped into the kitchen later that morning, his eyes barely half-open. “Only thing it’s good for, really, is cheap candy and booze.” Blindly, he poured himself a cup of coffee, his despair over the holiday so thick the pain of the coffee splashing onto his skin failed to make an impression. 

“I feel you,” Fitz agreed as he stumbled in after him. “Bloody stupid idea for a holiday, isn’t it? Us men ‘ave got to come up with stupid extravagant gifts that cost a  _ fortune _ . And half the time the women tell us we’re not getting it right. Blasted St. Valentin.” Automatically, he held out his mug for coffee, Hunter pouring it in like it was a habit. “Shall we go drink this day off?” 

“You two are right depressing, you are,” Simmons chided chirpily as she skipped into the kitchen, her eyes bright. “It’s Valentine’s Day! What kind of person doesn’t like a holiday dedicated to love?”

Fitz and Hunter stared at her like she’d grown an extra head. “I thought you said Valentine's Day was over-exaggerated,” Fitz said slowly. “Jem, you  _ hate  _ Valentine's Day. You called it an excuse for people to address their hormonal urges.” Hunter winced.

“Weeelll...” Simmons drew out the word, smiling sunnily as she poured the scalding hot water into a mug. “Maybe there  _ is  _ a reason to like it this year,” she said shyly as she lifted the mug to her lips, the cup hiding her smile. 

Hunter and Fitz exchanged glances with each other, gobsmacked. “You could find a reason to  _ like  _ this godforsaken holiday?” Hunter demanded. 

Simmons said nothing, only smiled as she left the room. Thoroughly confused, Hunter slowly turned around, disbelief on his face as he poured his own cup of tea. “Bloody hell, mate,” he said, mollified. “Simmons is  _ scary  _ when she's in love.”

There was the sound of a dropped mug. “ _ I AM  _ NOT  _ IN LOVE!” _

* * *

“Anyone seen Lincoln?” Skye asked later that afternoon as she lugged a giant stuffed Pikachu across the living room. When Coulson, Joey and Mack all shook their heads, she sighed, plopping into the couch. “Thank god. It's been hell getting this thing across the base.”

“That a present for a special someone?” Mack joked. “Maybe a shock-proof sweater would've been better?” Skye shot him a glare as Joey laughed. “Or, y'know, a bust of Abraham Lincoln could've been cool too.”

“Oh, shut up, Mr. ‘What-Do-I-Do-To-Get-Joey-a-Present’,” Skye mocked, cackling when Mack turned away in shame. “Yeah, didn't think I'd bring that up, did you? Well, I've got half a mind to tell Gutierrez here what you got him -”

“You got me something?” Joey squeaked, turning to Mack. He suddenly turned a bright pink, leaping off of the couch and scampering down the hallway. 

Mack turned back to Skye, a frown on his face. “You didn't have to tell him I got him something,” he said, hurt. “Kid's going to avoid me for the rest of the day.”

“Technically, he can't,” Coulson pointed out. “It's a small base. The probability of that's nearly impossible.” That did nothing to help Mack, and the tall agent stood, lumbering down the hallway to find Joey. 

Coulson looked at Skye, who looked back. “You get May something?” she teased. He sighed. He wasn't looking forward to breaking the truth to his agents. 

“Skye,” he began. “I'm not going to get together with May.” Skye's mouth dropped open, and she seemed at a loss for words. “We've known for a while that we weren't going to work out. But you were just so invested into the idea,” he admitted softly, apology softening his expression. 

“But,” Skye began helplessly, gesturing randomly. “But. But. But...” Her hands fell to her lap, and she looked sullen. “This was a horrible day to tell me, y'know,” she said sadly. 

“I didn't want you to get the wrong idea -” Coulson began, wanting to save the situation from blowing over. 

He couldn't. “Thanks, Phil,” Skye sulked, standing up and dragging the giant Pikachu down the hallway to her bunk. Halfway through, she stopped and picked it up, hugging it in her arms. 

_ At least someone loves me,  _ she thought bitterly. 

* * *

“Hi,” Joey said nervously as he entered the garage. Mack was pounding away at the table, sparks flying from his saw. “Sorry I, uh, ran earlier,” He fiddled with his hands. “I hadn't exactly expected to get anything from you.”

“Skye's blowing it out of proportion,” Mack muttered, picking up his hammer. “I was at an ends to figure out what to get you, anyways. It's not much.” He turned and reached for something behind him, handing Joey a solid metal ball. The other man looked at it in confusion. 

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

Mack winked. “You think about it.” 

Joey stared at it for a long moment. He'd been right when he'd said Skye had blown everything out of proportion. The surface of the ball was sleek and shiny, the light bouncing off of its surface. He tried twisting it, poking it, every way he could try to open it. 

Finally, just when he was about to chuck it across the room, inspiration struck him. Slowly, he stared at the ball, willing it to dissolve. The ball slowly melted, the metal flowing through his hands until all that remained was an intricately carved mahogany box. Awestruck, he opened it, revealing a tiny set of link cuffs. 

Mack shrugged. “I told you it wasn't much,” he said as Joey gazed adoringly at them. “I figure it was one of those things you'd eventually need that you didn't take with you. After all, no one really takes cuff links with them when they're on the run from the ATCU...”

“Mack,” Joey interrupted. “They're great. I love them.” Delicately, he picked one up, admiring its fragility. “They're so tiny.” He turned to face the taller agent. “And now I feel awful, ‘cause I didn't get you anything...” 

“You could always wear them out to the restaurant next week,” Mack said hopefully. Joey's jaw dropped open. 

“Are you trying to ask me out?” he asked. Mack raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Did you want to  _ go  _ out?”

* * *

“In love, my arse,” Simmons muttered in the lab later, violently mixing together some hydrogen peroxide and liquid nitrogen. “There's absolutely no  _ way  _ I could be in love, that's a stupid notion, it is,” She slammed the beaker down with a little more force than necessary, huffing as she stalked back to her bench. “Just because I've got a  _ friend  _ that happens to  _ not  _ be Fitz...”

“I'd ask if you were talking about me, but then I'm not sure what you'd be talking about,” 

Simmons whirled around to see Bobbi leaning in the doorway of the lab, holding a sandwich and a cup of tea. “Have you had anything to eat since yesterday, Jem?”

“Bobbi!” At that moment, Simmons’ stomach chose to let out a loud growl, making Bobbi laugh and set down the plate. “I thought you would be celebrating Valentine's Day with the rest of them.”

“Hunter's gone off drinking with Fitz, and Mack's having a moment with Joey,” Bobbi answered conversationally. “Figured it was best I didn't get in the middle of that.” She stole half of Simmons’ sandwich, chewing on it thoughtfully. “Besides, I couldn't leave my favorite girl all alone in the lab now, could I?” She nudged Simmons playfully, grinning as the other woman blushed madly. “It’d really be such a travesty.”

“Well, really, Bobbi, that's awfully kind of you,” Simmons grinned, swooping over to kiss Bobbi on the cheek. “And I never did get to thank you properly for getting me through that lockdown. I don't know what I would've done without you there, to be honest.”

“Speaking of that,” Bobbi grew serious, turning to face her. “Does anyone know about this besides me?” Simmons suddenly looked abashed, ducking away. Bobbi pursed her lips, her suspicion confirmed. “We're not going to think any less of you,” she insisted softly. “Jem, it was the worst shooting in history. I -  _ we're  _ lucky you made it out alive.”

“‘M just not good with dark lockdowns,” Simmons muttered, focusing on her work. “‘S not that big of a deal.”

Bobbi sighed. “May I remind you that you punched me. In the nose.” She frowned disapprovingly at Simmons. “That’s a little more than just ‘not that big of a deal’. You’ve spent your entire life hiding things from people.” Bobbi reached for her then, catching her chin. “For the first time, let someone take them, okay, Jem? For me?”

Despite massive internal screaming, Simmons found herself nodding. “Okay,” she whispered in a wobbly voice.  _ What was she doing?  _ No one needed to hear about her burdens,  _ especially  _ not Bobbi, who had been  _ nothing  _ but sweet to her throughout the entire time they’d known each other; holding her through lockdowns, bringing her food, sciencing when Fitz was too preoccupied with Hunter. No, what Simmons wanted to do was keep Bobbi, not send her screaming like a kid that’d discovered coal in their stocking on Christmas Day. 

She wanted to keep all five foot eleven inches of her, the endlessly tumbling locks of golden blonde hair, the fighting style of a snake, blue eyes she could drown in, the soft side she only seemed to show towards Simmons and made her well up with blushingly intense emotion inside...

_ Bloody hell.  _

Jemma Simmons was in love with Bobbi Morse.

* * *

“So I told her,” Coulson admitted sheepishly that night, scratching the back of his neck as May counted out money to put into her red envelopes. “She didn’t take it as well as I thought she would.” 

May’s head whipped up to glare at him. “You did  _ what _ ?” she hissed, horror in her eyes. “On  _ Valentine’s Day _ ?” She chucked a piece of chocolate at him. “Phil Coulson, you are the most heartless person I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. Ever.” 

“Says the woman who set off firecrackers in my shower,” he muttered, only to get hit in the head with another piece of chocolate. “Ow!”

“Hi, May. Coulson.” Skye wandered in, wearing a sky blue hoodie with clouds on it. “How ya doing?” May and Coulson exchanged frantic looks, each of them telling the other to suck and up and deal with the fallout. “You guys do know that I can tell what you’re talking about?” she asked, slumping onto the couch. “I’m cool with the fact that AC basically just told me you guys would never be my parents, y’know. It’s cool. I’ll just remain parentless for the rest of my life.” 

May glared at Coulson one final time. “Skye...” she began gently. 

But Skye had already gotten emotional. “You really were a dad to me, AC,” she said bitterly, drawing her knees to her chest. Her hood was drawn up, masking her face. “Stupid dad jokes and all. And May,” she said plaintively, holding her palms out. “You taught me how to use chopsticks. You trained me from day one. Hell, you even  _ said  _ on the first day of Chinese New Year that parents gave their kids the first set of envelopes! And now the people I consider to be my parents aren’t actually going to be together like actual parents?” She sniffed, not wanting to cause a scene. 

“Skye,” May tried again, reaching for the hacker. “Just because Coulson and I aren’t together doesn’t mean that we wouldn’t care to be your parents. I’d love to be your mother, if you’ll have me,” she said nervously. “You mean a lot to me, Skye, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she finished, looking Skye directly in the eyes. “In fact, here.” She reached for a small box. “Your Valentine’s Day gift. I wanted to give it to you with the others’, but...”

Touched, Skye reached for the box, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she opened it. “Is this...is this your mom’s?” she asked quietly, fingering the gold chain. Nestled into the bottom of the box was a small jade pendant. “Are you giving this to me?”

May nodded. “From mother to daughter. My mother gave it to me, and now I’m giving it to you.” That was all it took before Skye flung herself into May’s arms, surprising even the older agent. 

“Thank you, May.”

* * *

“I got them all finished!” Lincoln announced, rushing into the lounge as everyone else was filing in. “Took me five paper cuts and a lot of licking, but I got them all done!” He noticed Skye snuggling extremely close to May and quickly backed off. Instead, he sat on Skye’s other side, leaning his head on her shoulder. 

Hunter and Fitz were the next to wander in, the two of them plopping onto a couch comfortably. Bobbi and Simmons were next, looking suspiciously close, and Skye narrowed her eyes at the both of them before resuming her snuggle into May’s side. Mack and Joey were last, with nothing but eyes for each other as they sat. 

“Alright, so here are your second set of envelopes,” May announced, looking at her list of envelopes before handing them out to the designated person. “Remember, you’re not supposed to open them until the last day.” She shot a glare at Hunter, who was sneakily trying to open his envelope. 

Bobbi smacked him in the back of the head. 

“We can’t take this, Agent May,” Fitz said nervously, crinkling the envelope in his hands. “It really would be utterly selfish of us to take it, really,” He pushed the envelope back at May, only to be met with a dangerous glare. “I understand the first part, it’s tradition, but this...this isn’t needed.” 

“Completely unnecessary,” Simmons added, shoving her own envelopes at May. 

“FitzSimmons,” May threatened, turning up the wattage of her glare. “You  _ will  _ take those envelopes if you know what’s good for you.” 


	8. lion dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team learns how to lion dance. Bobbi and Jemma have a little drowsy moment.

“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE, UP AND AT ‘EM!” 

“God _ dammit,  _ Lincoln, I was right  _ next  _ to you!” Skye exclaimed, shooting upright in her bunk. “Did it ever occur to you that I’d be the only one who would hear it?” Lincoln looked properly abashed, but she smacked him in the head anyways. “Ugh, I’m going back to bed.” 

“But Skyyyyyyyeeeee,” he whined, pouting like a puppy. “I signed everyone up for lion dancing lessons. They start in an hour.” At that, Skye peered at him curiously, slowly sitting up. “We even get to be paired together.”

“Tell me more...”

* * *

“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE, UP AND AT ‘EM!” 

This was accompanied by Skye and Lincoln smacking on every hard surface they could think of, which included an array of pots, pans, and even the occasional bang against the wall. Skye took a particular vindictive glee in making the tools in the garage rattle, nearly causing Mack to lose an arm. 

“Come on, everyone!” Skye announced, walking up and down the hallways with a large pot and wooden spoon. “We all got lion dancing lessons in an hour! Everyone better look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed before then! Don’t make Lincoln change his partner lists!” 

Slowly, everyone emerged, some of them in better shape than others. Poor Simmons looked like she’d been through several rounds in the dryer, her hair flying in every direction as she sleepily rubbed her eyes. “Partners?” she asked groggily, a faint note of hope creeping into her voice. “Just what does he mean by partners?”

Skye cheerily handed her a cup of tea. “Get ready and you’ll find out!”

* * *

“I still can’t believe this was Campbell’s idea,” May said bitterly as they sat in a dance studio an hour later, watching a fluid demonstration between a yellow and red lion. Both lions had their major features outlined in gaudy colored fur, large marbles in place of their eyes. There was a bottom lip made of paper that flopped open garishly, drawn teeth etched onto the flap. A line of tassels dropped from the bottom lip, and to complete it, two sets of colored foam balls sprung off of the lion’s face. 

“Yeah, May, I thought you were on top of the Chinese New Year traditions,” Skye teased lightly, leaning her head on May’s shoulder. She was still slightly touchy from the events of yesterday, and May allowed it - this maternal feeling was new to her, but welcomed nonetheless. “The fact that Lincoln scheduled one before you kinda shows you’re slipping.” 

“You gonna tell us our partners, mate?” Hunter whined from the other end of the line, his leg shaking impatiently. “You could at least tell me if I’m stuck with Bob. I need to prepare myself for any possible situation if that happens.” Bobbi sighed and rolled her eyes, slumping back against the chair. She was looking worriedly over at Simmons, who was fighting to stay awake. 

“Hey,” She nudged Simmons. “What time did you go to bed last night?” Simmons fought off a yawn, looking at her watch blearily. 

“I’m not quite sure,” she admitted quietly, wiping at the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. She’d spent the majority of the night tossing and turning over her newfound revelation, finally about to fall into an uneasy sleep when Skye and Lincoln had started up their racket. “I don’t think I slept last night at all, to be honest.”  _ I was too busy figuring out how to deal with you. With us.  _ Simmons yawned again, closing her eyes briefly before snapping them open once more. “I’m fine, Bobbi. Really.” 

“ _ Simmons. _ ” Bobbi said her name exasperatedly, like a mother fussing over her stubborn child. A child she may or may not be  _ slightly  _ in love with, but whatever. When Simmons still refused to close her eyes, Bobbi made a small sound, then stood up, picking Simmons up bodily and carrying her to the back of the room where there was a small couch. 

“What are you doing - Bobbi - but I wanna learn how to lion dance!” Simmons whined, thrashing in Bobbi’s arms. Bobbi sighed, holding her at arm’s length so she wouldn’t break other body parts. (Her nose had been enough, thank you very much.) Surprisingly, none of the team looked back at the commotion, which went to show just  _ how  _ often Bobbi had had to resort to this tactic. Sighing again, she plopped down onto the couch, rearranging herself so Simmons was comfortably situated in her arms. “Bobbi...” 

“Sleep, Jem,” Bobbi gently admonished her. “You need sleep. I’m not having you trip and fall out there just because your reflexes aren’t what they should be.” 

“But...but won’t you miss out on the dancing?”

“It’d be an odd number anyways, and I don’t trust anyone to be the lion butt,” Bobbi replied. “Now. Sleep.” 

“It’s too loud?” Simmons tried one more time, trying to get out of having to sleep in Bobbi’s arms. As comfortable as they were, and as much as she’d  _ dreamed  _ of it, it’d bring her whole facade crashing down. Bobbi  _ couldn’t  _ know the extent of her affections. Absolutely. Could. Not. 

Bobbi hummed, fishing around in her pockets before pulling out her phone and a set of in-ear headphones. She plugged them in and pulled up her headphones, handing them to Simmons with an expectant look on her face. “Just trust me with the music, Jem.” Simmons nodded, pushing the earbuds in as she cautiously leaned against the back of the couch. Even so, she was still unconsciously leaning towards Bobbi as she closed her eyes. Soon, the tiny scientist was drifting away, her position falling so that she was essentially curled up against Bobbi, her face pressed into Bobbi’s neck. 

_ If you get tired and can’t go on _

_ I will carry you along _

_ When the rocks below your feet wear out your shoes _

_ When you’re barefoot and bruised _

Lincoln nudged Skye as the demonstration ended, both of them turning to the back of the room. Skye nearly screamed when she saw Bobbi with Simmons curled into her, the former running a hand through the latter’s hair with a look of content on her face. 

“Is my shirt coming in any time soon?”

* * *

“Alright, so partners are as follows,” Lincoln stood up, a list in his hand. “Skye and I, Fitz and Joey, and Mack and Hunter. We’d have Smorse, but, as you can see,” He gestured to the back of the room, the entire group letting out an ‘awwww’ as Bobbi bemusedly held a finger to her lips. “Simmons is a little out of it.” May gave Bobbi her best ‘don’t mess with her’ look, and she rolled her eyes, grinning besottedly down at a sleeping Simmons. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to have two dogs together?” Mack asked in confusion, and Hunter nodded emphatically. “And besides, Hunter doesn’t need to act like an ass. He’s already one.” Hunter raised an eyebrow at him. 

“That’s how we’re going today, mate?” he asked. “I think  _ I  _ should be the one to play the head, because I’m not sure your ego would fit into it. You play the ass - your head’s stuck in yours all the time, anyways.” Skye and Joey let out an ‘oooh’ as Coulson rolled his eyes. 

“Ladies, you’re both ugly,” Lincoln deadpanned. “I’ve got no other options for the either of you, because I’m pretty sure neither of you want to be stuck with May. I put you by height differences for a reason.” 

“Ends, covers over your heads,” the instructor declared, and May, Hunter, Skye and Fitz threw the back of the costumes over their heads, hunching down as they were swathed in colored light. “Heads, positions.” Coulson, Joey, Mack and Lincoln all cautiously picked up the heads, fitting themselves into them. 

“As you will notice, heads, there are several levers and flaps at your reach,” the instructor droned. Skye plopped to the ground, ready to sit through the lecture. “The one in your right hand operates the eyes. The lever below your hand controls the mouth.  _ Do not  _ try to operate both at the same time.” 

“Ends, you must watch your partner’s footwork carefully.” May popped back onto her feet, grinning. They had this down to a T. “Where their foot moves, you must go. If they pop up, you must jump with them. If the head is to raise, you must support them on their shoulders.” 

Mack looked horrified.  _ Him _ , on Hunter’s shoulders? He turned back to the merc, who looked just as scared. At the sound of a snicker, both of them turned back to see Bobbi giggling into her hand, careful not to wake up Simmons. They turned to each other in defiance. “She’ll learn,” Mack said determinedly. Hunter nodded, ready to prove Bobbi wrong.

Even if it meant having to support a 250-pound man on his shoulders.

* * *

“Cross, cross, back step, touch, touch, shoulder!” Lincoln called to Skye as he rapidly stepped back and jumped up, Skye catching him as he landed on her shoulders. A few head lifts later, she was rapidly bending her neck so that he could jump off, shadowing his footwork once again. 

They heard a  _ thud  _ as Joey and Fitz hit the floor, and Skye grinned as she and Lincoln danced by them, offering a hand to help Joey up. “That’s the fourth time they’ve hit the floor,” she yelled to Lincoln over the din of the drum kit. “They’re never going to get it at this rate.” 

“They’re not our problem at the moment,” Lincoln shouted back. He pointed his head at Coulson and May, who were moving rapidly with the beat. Coulson had even gone so far as to be able to pick up the head of lettuce with the lion’s head and was now ‘digesting’ it, as per tradition. “Back in the day, people used to compete for the lettuce because it represented good fortune for the dancers and whoever they represented.” 

Skye set her lips. “They’re going  _ down _ . Let’s go for that really high one over by the rafters. I’ll quake you the extra height if you need it.” They side-stepped over to the spot where the lettuce head was hanging, appraising the height as Lincoln moved the lion’s head, using it to ‘sniff’ at it. Coulson and May noticed, side-stepping to join them. Coulson and Lincoln locked eyes, butting their lion heads in different directions. In sync, both of them rapidly stepped backwards, preparing for the throw. 

Coulson jumped onto May’s shoulders, and she automatically jumped up, throwing him at least three feet into the air. Lincoln went into the air at about the same time, but Skye had already done the physics in her head, sending him a few vibrations to get the extra few inches he’d need to grab it. Lincoln grabbed the lettuce head as he soared back towards the ground, landing lightly on his feet as Coulson and May backed off bitterly. 

Meanwhile, Hunter and Mack had found a rhythm in their shared determination, and were moving almost as smoothly as Skye and Lincoln were. They spotted a head of lettuce over on a side table at the same time May and Coulson did. Determined to restore their reputations, they slid over, announcing their rivalry. Skye and Lincoln looked on bemusedly, quickly grabbing some tangerines off of the floor before going over to watch the match. 

Both heads warred competitively over the lettuce before Mack jumped onto Hunter’s shoulders and dived onto Coulson’s lion head, causing them to rear back. Mack swooped down to grab the lettuce head, cheering as he hopped off of Hunter’s shoulders. 

“If we don’t beat Fitz and Gutierrez, we’re doomed,” Coulson lamented, and May squared her shoulders. 

“That’s why we will.”

* * *

_ I think I want you more than want  _

_ I know I need you more than need _

_ I wanna hold you more than hold _

_ When you stood in front of me _

Simmons blinked as she yawned, the sweet words filtering into her ears. It was a little  _ too  _ warm to be the comfort of her own duvet, and hadn’t she  _ sworn  _ she’d gotten out of bed this morning...? Either way, she didn’t feel like getting up, she mused as she buried deeper into the pillow. Getting up meant she’d have to face Bobbi, and she was  _ not  _ prepared for that sort of difficulty today. 

_ Huh. Even the pillow’s warm,  _ she mused. She wrapped an arm around the warmth, bringing it closer to her before falling asleep once more. 

Bobbi started slightly as Simmons wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling to herself. She watched, mesmerized, as Simmons began letting out tiny snores, her exhales sending a tiny strand of hair flying up each time.

_ God, she loved her.  _ She loved the tiny way Simmons did everything, from tinkering in the lab to whaling away at the punching bag. How her passion for science never ended, only superseded by her stubborn intent to put everyone before herself. There was just something  _ about  _ her, Bobbi decided, that made her want to keep Simmons safe from the rest of the world. But she’d never go for that, really, so all Bobbi could do was train her as well as she could and hope for the best. 

At the end of the day, she decided as she stroked Simmons’ hair gently, for her Jemma to come back to her was all she really needed. Even if she never came back as more than just a friend.

* * *

“And we have the final showdown!” the instructor announced as Fitz, Joey, May and Coulson stared at each other, lightly stepping back and forth. He set a lettuce head onto a moving robot. Several similar robots, each of them differing heights, were scattered around the room. Hunter, Mack, Skye and Lincoln were watching from their seats, having already acquired the appropriate amounts of lettuce. 

Well, more accurately, Mack, Hunter and  _ Lincoln  _ were watching the competition. Skye was turned around, riveted by Bobbi and Simmons. 

“The first lion to claim this lettuce shall win the last bout of good fortune,” the instructor said. “The loser shall be cursed with misfortune until the return of the new year.” All four of them winced, Fitz especially. He’d seen what the cosmos could do. 

The drums started up rapidly, and feet blurred across the floor as the four of them did a deadly duet for the lettuce, watching the robots as they launched the lettuce repeatedly across the room. Somehow, during the course of the lesson, Joey and Fitz had found their rhythm, and were moving easily. 

Suddenly, the lettuce launched into a graceful arc across the room, and Joey spared only a backward glance at Fitz before he was jumping onto his shoulders, Fitz heaving with all of his might to get Joey up into the range of the lettuce. The spectators cheered as he caught it and landed on the floor, Coulson looking like he was on the verge of crying. 

“You two have certainly proved yourselves,” the instructor said, patting Fitz and Joey on the back. “May you two be blessed in the new year.” 


	9. family visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chinese New Year wouldn't be complete without family visits now, would it?

“Are you kidding me?” Lincoln demanded groggily as the alarms went off. He groped blindly for his alarm clock, refusing to lift his face from the pillow. His reluctance only increased further when he saw the time displayed:  _ 3:20 AM.  _ “I’M GONNA KILL SOMEONE!” 

Skye had already rolled out of bed and was running out the door, the rest of the team ahead or right behind her. With a groan, Lincoln hauled himself up as well. Didn’t whoever was invading the base know that he needed at least eight hours to recharge?

As they all raced down to the source of the alarm, Skye looked around curiously. “Anyone see Joey and Hunter?”

“They were on patrol, so they probably got to the threat first,” Bobbi nodded tersely, falling into step beside her. She’d strapped her batons to her back, ready to strike if needed. “And knowing Hunter, he’s probably already engaged with the threat, the idiot.” 

True to her word, Hunter was already fighting the unknown assailant as they reached the front doors, trading blow after blow but losing more by the minute. Joey was over on the side, quavering behind a large wooden crate. “Goddammit, remind me that we need to get Joey into training,” Mack groaned as he tossed Joey a four-by-four. 

The intruder let out a loud cry as they struck Hunter in the shoulder, sending him to the ground. Bobbi, enraged, threw herself into the fray, whirling her batons with blinding speed. The two of them began to fight, a deadly, graceful dance that had the entire group watching in awe. To her detriment, Bobbi was also knocked out, and Lincoln squared his shoulders. “I’m going in.” 

“Lincoln, don’t -” But he’d already charged, and Skye let out a groan as she chased after him. FitzSimmons arrived shortly after that, covered in sludge from some unknown experiment gone wrong. Simmons took one look at the unconscious Hunter and Bobbi and sighed. 

“I’ll just go get the medical cart,” she said, turning on her heel and dashing back towards the lab. Fitz grabbed an ICER from his belt and leveled it at the attacker, intending to fire a few rounds. 

“Fitz, no, your aim’s terrible -!” Mack began to shout, but it was too late: both Skye and Lincoln hit the ground, temporarily paralyzed. The assailant turned to Mack, prepared to fight, and Mack just sighed, wielding a large, metal pipe like a lightsaber. In turn, the figure picked up Bobbi’s batons, giving them an experimental whirl before gesturing in a ‘come hither’ motion. They launched into battle, the metal clanging with frightening loudness. 

May and Coulson were the last ones to run in, their guns drawn. Coulson winced as Mack was sent to the ground with a  _ thwack  _ of Bobbi’s baton, the figure standing up straight and brushing themselves off. Coulson and May advanced slowly, their guns held aloft. As they got closer, they let out a long-suffering groan, holstering their weapons.

“She’s never going to forgive me for this, is she?” Coulson muttered to May, who shook her head. 

“Melinda,” the figure said cordially. “Rather impressive attempt, I’d say, but you really do need to put up better security defenses. I thought I taught you better than this.” She turned to Coulson, who was hanging his head in shame. “Philip. I always thought you were the one who was eating my  _ joong _ . No wonder you’ve got such a beer belly.” 

May sighed. “Hi, Mom.”

* * *

Bobbi was the first one to awake in the medical wing, her sight sharpening back into focus as she looked around the room. Hunter, Mack, Skye and Lincoln were all in similar states as she was, each sporting their own unique blow to the head. As she struggled to sit up, her head spun, and she collapsed back onto the bed, groaning. 

“Figured you’d be the first one up,” Simmons chirped, hurrying over to her with an ice pack and some bandages. “And the first one to try and start moving,” she muttered under her breath as she took a quick scan of Bobbi’s vitals. 

“Wha’ happened?” Bobbi groaned, wincing as she spoke. “Di’ we...did we get the intruder?” 

“Oh, yes,” Simmons let out a tinkling laugh that made Bobbi fuzzy. “Quite a riot, really. It seems Mrs. May has the habit of dropping in on family unannounced. Coulson’s still laughing at the fact that Fitz tried to ICER her.” The name rang clearly in Bobbi’s head, and she muttered, 

“Mrs. May?”

“Yes, it seems May’s mother is here for the New Year celebrations,” Simmons explained as lifted the bandage on Bobbi’s head to check on the wound. Across the room, Skye began to groan, trying to sit up. 

“How much did I have to drink last night...?”

“Be with you right in a minute, Skye,” Simmons called to her friend before turning back to Bobbi. “As I was saying, Mrs. May is here for the New Year. She says she didn’t intend to take out Hunter, but his accent threw her for a loop. She accused May of ‘you hadn’t told me you adopted an Englishman!’. Well,” she concluded as she checked Bobbi over one more time. “You, Ms. Morse, will live. Some pain meds and you’ll be good to go.” She bent down to quickly kiss Bobbi on the cheek before hurrying over to Skye and the recently-awoken Lincoln. 

“I wasn’t drinkin’ with Lincoln ‘gain, was I?” Skye slurred confusedly as she tried to open her eyes once more. “Everythin’  _ hurts _ , Jem.” Simmons  _ tsked  _ as she checked her friend over, switching to check Lincoln for the same. 

“Yes, well, being ICERd by Fitz will do that to you, I suppose,” she murmured, going through a quick checklist before clapping her hands. Skye and Lincoln winced. “I’m sure Mrs. May will be very happy to hear that she didn’t incapacitate her own granddaughter.”

“ _ What _ .” Skye hissed, then clutched her side. “What d’you mean, May’s mom is here?” Simmons nodded, and Skye fell back onto the bed with a moan. “Great. May’s mom is here and now I’ve got to figure out how to be the perfect granddaughter. I haven’t even figured out how to be a perfect  _ daughter,  _ for God’s sake. How am I supposed to be a granddaughter?” 

“You’re going to be fine,” Lincoln reassured her. “She’s your adoptive grandmother; she’ll love you unconditionally. That’s what a family’s supposed to do.” He gulped. “I have to be the one that’s skipping past ‘meet the parents’ and going straight to ‘meet the grandparents’. That’s like skipping the Go square and going straight to income taxes.” 

“Hey, she has to love you,” Skye encouraged weakly. “After all, I love you. Don’t grandparents have to agree with everything their grandchildren think?” Lincoln reached out a hand, and Skye reached for it, squeezing his. “And if not, May still loves you. In a non-romantic way. Plus, I can tell you on one hand the number of times Mrs. May has met one of the agents and hated him. You’d be surprised.”

“Did I go drinking with Bob again?” Hunter moaned loudly from the other end of the room. Bobbi shot him a glare that immediately had her rubbing her head in pain. 

“You two are free to go, I’d just recommend a few hours of sleep,” Simmons advised before making a little ‘shoo’ motion. Lincoln and Skye got up, their hands still entwined as they meandered down the hallway. She smiled to herself. Skye would learn her package had come in later. Although what she needed a ‘#1 Shipper’ shirt for, she didn’t know...perhaps it was a last-ditch attempt to get Coulson and May together. 

Hell, maybe  _ she’d  _ wear it...she  _ was  _ the number-one Static Quake shipper, after all.

* * *

“For the last time, Melinda, I said I was sorry,” Lian  _ hmphed _ as Coulson brought in a tea tray. “Although, in my defense, I never got to explain who I was before your Britishman attacked me. And after I’ve brought red envelopes, too.” 

May perked up at the mention of money. “Red envelopes?”

“Yes, Melinda,  _ red envelopes _ ,” Lian rolled her eyes as Coulson set about pouring the tea. “I have one for you, since you’re not married. But you’d better,” she warned threateningly, wagging a thumb at May. “I want grandchildren.” Coulson and May exchanged glances. 

“Well,” May said, shifting uncomfortably. She  _ knew  _ there’d been a reason she hadn’t gotten married. Or had kids. “I sort of adopted one...” Lian snapped up straight, nearly choking on her tea. 

“You  _ adopted _ ?” she asked in surprise. “With this job? How’d you do that?” 

“She would’ve been here to say hi,” Coulson explained, “but she was unfortunately involved in this morning’s...altercation.” Lian let out a huff, putting her tea down and getting to her feet. 

“Well, where is she?” she demanded, and May fought to contain a sigh. “I want to meet the girl who’s softened my daughter’s heart!” 

“Mrs. May,” Bobbi half-deadpanned as she limped into the room, an ice pack held to her head. “Good to finally meet you. May talks about you a lot. Usually when she’s muttering under her breath.” Lian shot a look at May, who facepalmed, making a mental note to yell at Bobbi. Bobbi collapsed onto the couch, her eyes fluttering shut. “Ugh, I never want to deal with morning intruders again.” 

“Amen to that,” Hunter agreed loudly, following beside her. “Where’s my man Fitz? Need to find him so we can go get a beer or two.” 

“Jemma says no drinkin’ ‘till your wound’s healed,” Fitz tutted as he entered the room with a plate of refreshments. He set it onto the table, tossing Hunter a bottled water. “Sorry we don’t have more,” he said apologetically. “Shoulda told us you were coming.” 

“I think that’s what we’re  _ all  _ thinking right now,” Mack groaned as he slumped in, one eye swelled shut. “Simmons couldn’t do anything for it,” he lamented as he plopped down beside Coulson. “Said I’d just have to wait a week.” 

“Well, at least you don’t have a bruised rib,” Lincoln muttered. “Apparently, getting shot with an ICER tends to do that to you, believe it or not.” May turned to him, about to ask where Skye was when she heard frantic whisperings from the hallway. 

_ “What if I mess up? She’ll hate me forever!” _

_ “Skye, she won’t hate you. What’s the worst you could do? Tell me.” _

_ “I...I dunno.”  _ There was the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor.  _ “Say something completely stupid and uncultured that offends her? You know how bad my culture knowledge is, Jem. It’s freakin’ nonexistent.”  _

_ “Skye, no one’s expecting you to go out there and start spouting Mandarin. You grew up in a series of foster homes that I’m sure were anything but Chinese. We’re not going to judge you for that. We’re your friends. All you have to do is be yourself, and you’ll be perfectly fine, I promise.” _

_ “I know.”  _ Silence.  _ “I jus’...I jus’ want her to like me, is all. None of the grandparents ever really liked me.”  _

At that, May stood up, excusing herself. She found Skye and Simmons in the hallway, the former with insecurities written all over her face as Simmons tried to comfort her. “I’ll take it from here, Simmons,” she promised, putting a hand on Simmons’ shoulder. The other woman nodded, giving Skye a look before hurrying off. “Skye,” she said, tipping her surrogate daughter’s chin up. “Look at me.” 

Skye blinked. 

“My mother is a retired CIA agent,” May began. “I can promise you that there is  _ nothing  _ she hasn’t seen before. You could screw up on any number of levels and she wouldn’t care, alright? I know she loves you, and she hasn’t even met you yet.”

“How d’you know that?”

“Because you make me happy.” May’s reply was sincere. “For my entire life, all my mother’s wanted is for me to be happy. It’s worried her that I haven’t found something worth living for all these years; she just hasn’t shown it. You being that thing is the best you could do.” 

“Even if I don’t know anything about Chinese culture?” Skye whispered. 

“She’ll probably take it upon herself to teach you, to be honest,” May shook her head. “Now come on. She’s dying to meet you.”

* * *

“Mom, this is my daughter, Skye,” May announced as she came in with Skye, a hand on the small of her back. “We...we originally picked up her when she was trying to hack SHIELD, but since then she’s been integrated into the team.” Skye held out hand shyly for Lian to shake, biting her lip. 

Lian shook it grandly. “Good to meet you, Skye. I hope you’ve been keeping my daughter at her wit’s end. She needs someone that keeps her on her toes, and since she’s not going to have a husband to do that...”

Skye giggled as May turned a furious red, some of her shyness forgotten. “It’s good to meet you, Mrs. May.” 

“Oh, please,” Lian scoffed. “Call me Lian. And that goes for the rest of you,” she said, pointing to the agents. “I assume she’s adopted the rest of you in some sort of capacity of another.” She sat down once more, patting the empty spot next to her. “Come, Skye. You can ask me anything you’d like to know about your mother.” 

“Skye makes better  _ joong  _ than you do,” Coulson blurted out, and all of the color drained out of Lian’s face. Skye wanted nothing more than to sink into the couch, certain her adoptive father had just ruined any sort of relationship she might’ve formed with her adoptive grandmother.

“Well, Philip, of course she has,” Lian scoffed. “Talent manifests throughout generations.” Skye slumped back into the couch, relieved. May gave her an ‘I-told-you-so’ smile, hiding it behind a cup of tea. “I’m withholding your red envelope for that comment.” Coulson’s face turned to one of panic, and Skye fought to hold back her laughter. 

Lian grabbed her bag from the ground, digging out four envelopes from her bag and handing them to Skye, beaming when Skye took them with two hands. “Two for you, and I figured you were deserving of Philip’s, as well.” Across the room, Coulson pouted. The rest of the envelopes were handed out in pairs, the rest of them following Skye’s example and taking them with two hands. 

“Now, Skye, honey,” Lian said, easing back onto the couch. “Do you have a boyfriend?” May let out a loud squawk while Skye blushed.

“Mom!” 

“No, it’s alright, May,” Skye said, grinning at Lincoln. “I do,” she said to Lian. “That’s Lincoln, the one sitting over there with an ice pack to his ribs.” Lian followed her gaze, narrowing her eyes dramatically at Lincoln. He gulped, painstakingly standing and walking over to the two of them, holding his hand out to shake. 

“I promise I’m not going to hurt her,” he said nervously as Lian shook his hand, looking him over scrutinizingly. “Skye means the world to me. I’d sooner die than hurt her.” 

Lian looked surprised, but continued with her threat anyways. “Good. You hurt her, you will have me  _ and  _ my daughter to answer to.” 


	10. tiger balm

“Are you  _ sure  _ they’re going to be okay?” Skye asked for what seemed like the millionth time. 

An urgent call had come in about an 084 in Mumbai, causing all the agents (save for FitzSimmons) to scramble at an ungodly hour of the morning, and it was as she was tugging her jacket on that Skye remembered the  _ last  _ time they’d left FitzSimmons alone. 

“She’s going to be fine, Skye,” May sighed, trying not to roll her eyes. “Your grandmother’s with them. If anything, I’d be scared of whoever tried to break into the base. She’s a force, my mother is.” 

“Yeah, we all saw that,” Bobbi muttered, still wincing from the beating Lian had given all of them yesterday. “I’m not sure if we’re ever going to live that one down.” 

“Intel informs me that the object in question’s got some kind of gravitational force around it,” Coulson said as they all strapped in. May raced to the cockpit, ready for immediate takeoff. “Anyone that comes into contact with it is going to get thrown clear across the room.” 

“So what are we doing there, exactly?” Hunter asked. “Seems like a useless mission then.” 

“I’m hoping Skye and Lincoln can figure out a way to disable the object so that no one else gets hurts,” Coulson admitted. “You and Morse are sort of just along for backup.” 

Bobbi dragged a hand across her face, groaning. “I need to start demanding a paycheck.”

* * *

“Leo, Jemma. You’re up early,” Lian stepped into the kitchen, surprised. FitzSimmons was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea each, both of them picking at a plate of croissants. “Something bothering you?” 

“We’re fine, Mrs. May,” they chorused exhaustedly in unison. Lian tutted, pouring herself a cup of tea before sitting herself at the kitchen island. “Besides, Fitz was here first,” Simmons said automatically. Fitz dig an elbow into her side. “Ow!” 

“You were two steps behind me, Jem, it wasn’t that far behind!” 

“Now, now, children,” Lian said, staring at them sternly. “What’s keeping a couple of young souls like you awake?” 

“Fitz likes Hunter” Simmons blurted out at the same time Fitz said, “Simmons is in love with Bobbi”. They both glared at each other. “Shut up! No,  _ you  _ shut up! No,  _ you! _ ” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say you  _ like _ Hunter,” Simmons muttered darkly into her teacup. “You’re madly in love with him the way Skye is with Lincoln. Bloody nauseating, it is.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Fitz retorted with a  _ harrumph _ . “At least I wasn’t the one using Bobbi as a human pillow two days ago.” Simmons went pale, slowly lowering her teacup. Flashes of a secure warmth ran through her mind, mixed blurrily with reassuring words. 

“Do you mean to tell me,” she began abruptly, her hands shaking, “that when I was sleeping two days ago -”

“Oh, yes,” Fitz said gleefully. “I must say, you looked quite content for someone who claimed they weren’t in love.” 

“Bloody hell,” Simmons wailed, her head hitting the table. “Bloody,  _ bloody  _ hell.” 

“Now, now, Jemma,” Lian said comfortingly, putting a hand on Simmons’ shoulder. “You’re going to be alright, darling. Realizing you’re in love isn’t a trivial thing. Just breathe it out.”

“But I  _ knew  _ I was in love with her,” Simmons cried. “I  _ am  _ in love with her. It’s so obvious, even  _ Fitz  _ noticed.” Fitz made an offended noise. “It was a stupid move, really, when she doesn’t love me back.”

Lian was about to respond when a series of squawks came over the PA. FitzSimmons jumped, each of them snapping to attention. “Simmons, ready the med bay,” Lincoln’s voice was panicked. “There was an ambush, and shots rang out. I’m not sure who’s hurt.” 

Abandoning her tea, Simmons tore down the hallway.

* * *

“No one died, at least?” Skye tried as she was sitting on the examiner’s table, a very stoic-faced Simmons stitching up a deep bullet graze in her upper arm. She winced as Simmons nearly stabbed the needle into the skin. “Ow, Jem. That one hurt.”

“This is what happens when you leave Fitz and I at base,” Simmons gritted out as she yanked the stitch shut. “Shots are fired, people get hurt, and Fitz and I are having early breakfast tea besides ourselves with worry.” Fiercely, she snipped the remaining thread, checking over her work. “You should be fine. Come back in 48 hours and I’ll snip it for you.” 

“We didn’t know what we were getting into, Jem, we weren’t about to replace you,” Skye winced as she hopped off of the table, holding her ribs. “You got anything for these bruises, Jem?”

“Tiger Balm,” May appeared eerily in the doorway, a small jar in her hand. She held it out towards Skye. “Works for everything. Rub it thoroughly over the bruise and you should be fine.” Nodding, Skye took the jar and hobbled out.

* * *

“Uh, so don’t tell Sparky, but I think I got shot in the lower leg,” Hunter let out a stream of swears as he attempted to hop onto the table. “He was so busy worrying over Skye’s graze, I didn’t want to stress him out.” Simmons took one look at the wound, her frustration at being left behind mounting. 

Didn’t they know it caused her more distress to be kept back than taken with? That she had to sit, waiting for hours, even days, worrying about if Skye or Hunter got injured; or May, or, heaven forbid, something happen to Bobbi - 

_ Stop, Jemma. Just. No.  _

“Oh, I’m not going to tell Lincoln,” she said sweetly, gathering the materials she needed. She looked up, staring Hunter straight in the eye. “I’m going to tell the one person who would take it worse than he would.” 

“Who’s tha -”

“FITZ!”

* * *

“You got shot in th’  _ leg _ ?” Fitz’s voice had risen several octaves since Simmons had called for him. “And you didn’ tell anyone?” He let out an affronted gasp, trying to comprehend just  _ why  _ anyone would have put off immediate medical care. “Why the bloody hell would you do that? You’d put yourself in danger, is all you’d do, and who knows what could happen if you put it off?!” Fitz began pacing up and down the room, much to Simmons’ satisfaction. “Do you not care what happens to you?”

“I’ll just be leaving now,” Simmons chirped, flouncing out. “People to see, wounds to stitch up. Fitz, I’ve left everything you need to stitch him up. Make sure he gets what he deserves, yes?” Fitz glared at Hunter, who quailed nervously as the other man took up a sterilized needle and some thread. 

“I can’ believe you’d be so  _ stupid _ ,” Fitz muttered as he threaded the needle. Hunter let out a cry as he jabbed the first stitch in, vindictively doing the stitches haphazardly. “Hiding a bullet wound from your teammates. You could have  _ died _ .” His hands shook as he continued his work. “I would’ve  _ never  _ forgiven’ ya.” 

“Fitz, mate, I’m fine,” Hunter tried to reassure him, letting out a hiss as Fitz pulled especially hard. “It was only a shot in the leg; I’ll be up and buggerin’ around before you know it.” 

“This time,” Fitz cried as he pulled on the stitch. “What if it’s wors’ next time? What if it’s not just a shot in the leg, what if it’s a shot in the stomach, or closer to your chest, or something we can’t control...?” He looked close to hyperventilating, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes as he dropped the needle and thread. 

“I s’pose this is a bad time to mention that the sketchy Thai food we ate last night is currently rioting in my gut?” Hunter questioned, the aforementioned pains suddenly roaring into the limelight. He doubled over as Fitz hurriedly snipped the thread, crouching down so he could meet Hunter’s eyes. “Ugh. Bloody drunken noodles...”

“Tiger Balm,” May told them as she appeared in the doorway. “Works on everything. Make sure you rub it in extra hard,” she advised as she left. “Idiot took a bullet for me. I’m pretty sure his ribs are bruised.”

Fitz glared at Hunter. “Took a  _ bullet  _ for her, eh?”

* * *

“Mother,” May nodded as Lian entered the kitchen, digging through the fridge for a pack of  _ joong _ . “Thank you for taking care of FitzSimmons.” 

“They need a lot more than looking after physically,” Lian said, finally withdrawing one of Coulson’s  _ joong _ . “They were a worried mess this morning, Melinda,” she said as she reached for a pot. “Poor Jemma was beside herself with tears when she realized how besotted she was with Barbara.” 

May let out a long-suffering sigh. “I suppose she thinks Bobbi doesn’t love her back.” 

Lian gave her a surprised look. “How did you know that?”

“Simmons is a lot of things, but good with relationships isn’t one of them,” May shook her head as she joined her mother by the sink. “Simmons wouldn’t know Bobbi’s attraction to her even if it hit her in the head.”

_ “BARBARA MORSE, WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU GOT SHOT IN THE STOMACH?!”  _

“Or, in this case,” Lian finished with a small smile, “if it hit her significant other in the stomach.” She handed her daughter a small jar. “Take the Tiger Balm. You’re going to need it.”

* * *

“Simmons?” May knocked on the door of Simmons’ bunk later, pushing it open when she heard the sound of sobbing. The tiny scientist was curled up in her bed, clutching tightly to a small teddy bear. “Oh, Simmons,” 

“I shouldn’t be crying, I know,” Simmons hiccuped, hugging the bear closer to her chest. “Bobbi’s fine, and she’s recovering, honestly, it was a miracle she hid it for so long, but -” She let out a loud, choking gasp. “She could have  _ not  _ made it, or been hurt worse, or - or -”

“You really do love her, don’t you?” May asked gently, sitting down on the bed. “Anyone can tell you’re a goner, honey.” Simmons nodded, not trusting herself to speak. “What’s stopping you, then?”

“She’s  _ Bobbi _ ,” Even through her tears, Simmons managed to make talking about Bobbi seem reverent. “She’s the  _ Mockingbird.  _ One of the best agents SHIELD has.” She shook her head. “I’m just a scientist.” 

“At the end of the day, we’re all still human,” May’s voice was soft as she rubbed circles on Simmons’ back. “It doesn’t matter how little or how much we’ve accomplished, we’re all still the same mass of skin and bones.” 

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” Simmons muttered. “I’m only ‘a great friend’,” Air quotes were made at the last part as she turned over in bed, heaving a large sigh. 

May sat there, speechless as to how two of her smartest children could be so stupid. At least, she held out the jar of Tiger Balm. “Tiger Balm,” she said, amazement laced in her tone. “Works on everything.”

* * *

“Simmons, you got anything for this godawful bellyache, we are never ordering Thai food again from that place -”

“Tiger Balm!” A jar came flying around the corner, nearly hitting Coulson in the head.

* * *

_ ZZZZZZZT.  _

Lincoln yanked his hand back as he examined the circuitry, absentmindedly rubbing the light burn forming in the meat of his hand. “Skye, is there any burn cream in the first aid kit -”

“Tiger Balm!” It was only by sheer reflex as he caught the jar. Lincoln turned around to see Skye, who was beside herself with laughter. 

“Apparently Tiger Balm works on everything,” she said, straightfaced. “At least, according to May.”

* * *

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Joey whispered later to Mack in the garage. “I’ve heard May’s been going around all day throwing jars of Tiger Balm at people.” He shuddered. “Whatever that is.” 

“Tiger Balm,” came a voice from the doorway, and they turned to see Lian, a small jar of the ointment in her outstretched palm. “Works on everything.” 

Mack winced as he remembered the searing pain coming out of his rear end, courtesy of the awful food they’d ordered the night before. “Even on diarrhea?” 

Joey made a disgusted face while Lian flicked the jar at him. “For your  _ ass _ . Tiger Balm.” With that, she squared her shoulders and walked out of the room, leaving the both of them extremely confused.

* * *

“May? Lian? What are you doing?” 

Both mother and daughter immediately turned around to Skye, making identical shushing noises. “I talked to Simmons today,” May said, frowning as she balanced a jar of Tiger Balm in her hand. “She said Bobbi called her ‘a great friend’.” Skye made a sympathetic noise at the same time that Lian snorted. 

“Well, that’s a piece of bull if I’ve ever heard it,” Skye muttered. “Jemma and I are best friends, and I don’t go around letting her sleep in my lap.” 

“Look, there she is,” May said quickly, and the three of them hid behind a corner as Bobbi walked into the living room, humming a tune under her breath. 

Things happened very rapidly after that. 

May straightened up, lobbed the jar of Tiger Balm at Bobbi, and yelled, “FOR YOUR IDIODICY!” before running away, Skye and Lian running after her. They heard a  _ thunk  _ as it connected with Bobbi’s head, followed by the enraged yell of, 

“MAY!” 

“RUN FASTER!” Lian shrieked girlishly, and they all let out screams as they dashed down the hallway, Bobbi hot on their heels. “Actually, you know what, slow down!” she yelled as they turned a corner. “I’m not as fast as I used to be!” 

“No can do, Grandma!” Skye yelled fearfully as they heard Bobbi’s footsteps thundering after them. “Not unless you want to become baton pulp!” 

They skidded around another corner before arriving at the inventory room, May yanking open the door and shooing them both in before slamming the door shut herself. On the other side, they all leaned against the door, out of breath. Bobbi ran past them, her batons whirling so fast their sound was audible. 

“Oh my God, we’re alive,” Skye panted, sinking to the floor. “I thought we were dead for sure.” 

“You threw a jar at her too?”

Fitz crawled out of one of the inventory aisles. The three women gaped. “I’d ask you what you’re doing here, but you’re obviously hiding from Bobbi, so...”

“Why’d  _ you  _ throw a jar at her?” Skye asked. 

“Because she was being a bloody idiot about her relationship with Simmons,” came Hunter’s exclamation as he crawled out of another aisle. “Glad to see we’re not the only ones who think she hasn’t got her head on straight.” 

“‘S that Skye?” Lincoln called, peeking down from the rafters. “Oh, thank God. I was starting to worry we’d have to call Coulson or something.”

“Wouldn’t have worked,” Mack groaned from a large pile of trash bags. “The Director’s takin’ a nap in the birdseed.” 

“Gotta feed the pretty birds some birdseed...”

“Okaaaay,” Skye made a weird face. “I’m not a medical doctor or anything, but I think he’s got a concussion.” She turned to Lincoln. “Are people with concussions supposed to say weird things?” 

“I don’t know,” Lincoln groaned. “My head’s killing me. Anyone got anything for the bump?” 

Lian and May looked at each other before the elder May tossed up a jar. “Tiger Balm. Works on everything.” 


	11. gambling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lian May 'teaches' our favorite agents how to gamble using Cards Against Humanity. What could go wrong?

“I want you all to write down things you could consider payment,” Lian and May faced down the Bus team the next morning at breakfast, a small pile of index cards and pens in front of them. “Things like chores, power usage, hot water.” 

“Should I ask why?” Hunter asked nervously as they began to scribble down things. Fitz’s pile grew the fastest; May was pretty sure he was just writing ‘monkey’ over and over again. “Fitz, mate,” he hissed, looking over at the pile. “Stop writing ‘monkey’. You’re not going to get one.” 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Fitz pouted back, but slowed down his pace immensely. 

_ “Things you have that you are willing to exchange. _ ” May sighed before sliding Fitz another stack of index cards. “Fitz, you don’t have a monkey. Try again.” 

“An essential part of Chinese New Year - actually, an essential part of any Asian family gathering - is gambling,” Lian said loftily. “May and I do not have the time, nor the patience, to teach you mahjong, so we are all going to gamble in other games. I forbid you from gambling your red envelopes, but anything else is on the table.” 

“Make sure you scribble your name on the back of the cards,” May reminded them. “So we know who owes who what.” 

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Lincoln muttered. “I’d  _ kill  _ for another couple of gallons of hot water during the shower.” Skye looked at him weirdly. “Not actually, babe. I’d kill everyone else first.” 

“Real assuring, mate,” Hunter snorted.

* * *

“Cards Against Humanity?” Skye asked as she entered the lounge. “Y’all better watch out,” she said to the rest of the team. “I am  _ beast  _ at this game.” 

“Ah, yes, but you’ve never played a CIA agent,” Lian warned as she took a seat on the couch adjacent to her granddaughter. “I will personally whoop you into the next county, honey.” 

Lincoln barked out a laugh. “Not before I do, Lian. Not before I do.” 

“Rules are as follows,” May said as she distributed the white cards among the agents. “Everyone puts down a payment before the black card’s drawn. The person who wins that black card wins the payments. You run out of things to bet, you’re out. Alternatively, you can pay actual money to get your payments back. Got it?”

Everyone nodded, and May flipped over the first black card.    


“‘When I was tripping on acid, blank turned into blank,’” Bobbi read before sighing and tossing the card aside. “New rule: we don’t do doubles.” 

“Probably because she has a story about tripping on acid,” Hunter sniggered to Fitz, and the two of them giggled before Bobbi shot them a dark look, flipping them the bird. 

“‘This is the way the world ends’,” she read with a raised eyebrow. “This is the way the world ends/Not with a bang but with a blank.” Cards and payment began to fly towards her, and Bobbi considered her own stack of index cards before sighing and throwing out ‘One month of chores’. 

“With...” she said dramatically, laying out the cards. “ _ Laying an egg. Alcoholism. _ Well, that’ll certainly be if Hunter’s the last man on Earth,” she said dryly. “ _ Sexual peeing. My relationship status _ .” The entire room sniggered at that; it was certainly true enough. The day Bobbi finally got over herself and got with Simmons seemed to be the apocalypse. “ _ Your weird brother. Testicular torsion. Unfathomable stupidity _ .” Bobbi winced, rubbing the back of her head where May had thrown the jar of Tiger Balm at her. “ _ A monkey smoking a cigar. _ I know where that one came from.  _ My genitals. Shaq’s acting career. _ And, last but not least,  _ cheating in the Special Olympics _ .” She looked back and forth between the agents. “Unfathomable stupidity it is.” 

They all looked on in shock as Simmons claimed the card, grinning madly to herself. “It’s the most likely,” she explained in defense. “I swear, one of the lab technicians are on the verge of causing a nuclear explosion every other day,” 

“Should I be worried?” Coulson asked, a frown creasing his forehead. 

“Of course not, sir,” Simmons chirped, fanning through her index cards. “Ah, yes, a month of free chores,” she said happily, waving the card at Bobbi. “Thank you very much for this, Bobbi!” She picked out the next card. “‘I drink to forget blank’.” _Well, she certainly could have used a drink after Bobbi had called her a friend._ “ _World peace. Scientology._ Anyone would drink to forget that,” she shuddered. “ _The Kool-Aid Man. Ghosts. Panda sex._ Oh my. _Crumbs all over the bloody carpet._ Yes, Hunter, _please_ take that hint and _stop eating in the lounge!_ _Robert Downey Jr._ Did you mean Tony Stark? I’m sure Fitz would absolutely murder me. _Oompa-Loompas_. _Teenage pregnancy. A good sniff_ , and _a mopey zoo lion_.” 

“I don’t wanna think about panda sex,” Skye’s face was screwed up in disgust. “Someone get me some brain bleach. That’s literally worse than catching people go at it in the SUV.” 

“I agree,” Simmons murmured, looking queasy. “Who drew that?” When Hunter leaned forward to pick up his card, she snorted. “Why am I not surprised?” 

“Excellent, I got a free meal!” Hunter exclaimed, waving his index card in the air. “Mrs. May, you’re the best!”

Lian sighed. “Remind me to mysteriously disappear when he cashes that in.” 

“Alright, everyone, let’s go,” he said, picking up another card. “Next from J.K. Rowling: Harry Potter and the Chamber of blank. I’d be careful with what you put down, everyone,” he said. “British people take Harry Potter  _ very  _ seriously.” He would know: Simmons had constantly insisted on being Hermione every year for Halloween; she’d almost dyed his hair red once. 

The cards, white and index, flew. “ _ Figgy pudding _ . The bloody hell is that?  _ The Hamburglar.  _ You Americans are weird.  _ The milkman. Take-backsies. Justin Bieber.  _ Oi, whoever’s idea of a joke that was... _ Being a motherfucking sorcerer.  _ Did you  _ read  _ the other four books?  _ Foreskin. The Three-Fifths Compromise. Sean Connery. Harry Potter erotica. _ ” He took several deep breaths, willing himself not to demand of them who’d put that down. “ _ Bio-engineered assault turtles with acid breath _ . Now, whoever put down ‘Harry Potter erotica’, please go kindly into a hole and die. Rather enjoying the assault turtles, though.” May smirked as she picked up her card, leafing through her payments. 

“Coulson, a joyride on Lola,” she said, impressed. “I’m touched. I didn’t think you’d put that down. Fitz and Simmons, an offer to cook.” She grimaced as FitzSimmons grinned sheepishly. “Perhaps I might want to reconsider those offers another day...”

* * *

Several rounds later, each of them were looking thoroughly annoyed with how many times May seemed to clean house, sweeping aside their indexed payments as if they were pennies. Hunter was down to his last payment; Coulson on his last three. 

“Okay, last round before we switch activities,” Mack said as he dealt out the black card. “‘What are my parents hiding from me?’”

“I could make so many jokes out of this,” Skye muttered as she considered her white cards, frowning as none of them seemed to fit. “Burn round,” she finally sighed as she slid Mack her card and payment. “I’m glad I’ve only got a stupid payment left.” 

_ “Hot people, _ ” Mack read, his eyebrows flying up. “Coulson, May, really? I gotta say, you didn’t do a very good job with Joey.” Everyone groaned loudly. “ _ Incest. _ ” He looked back and forth between FitzSimmons, going pale. “Please tell me you’re not -”

“Oh my  _ god,  _ Mack, no -”

“I’m disgusted that you’d consider that I’d do that to  _ Fitz _ , of all people -”

“Moving on,” Mack said hurriedly, flipping over the next white card. “ _ Lactation. An erection that lasts more than four hours. _ ” Everyone looked away from Coulson, Bobbi struggling not to hurl. “ _ Jobs.  _ Paying ones, you mean.  _ A time travel paradox. My inner demons.  _ Whoa, that’s deep.  _ Smeg - _ ” He blanched before moving on. “ _ Soup that is too hot. The glass ceiling. The American Dream. _ ” He put the cards down, visibly shaken. “Some of us have really twisted minds.”

“Why d’you think we’re all agents, Mack?” Lincoln deadpanned. “Just pick a card already.” 

“Who put the sm -” Mack couldn’t even say it without wanting to gag. “The one after the inner demons.” When Joey leaned forwards to collect his cards, Mack let out a large groan before moving away several feet. “We can’t end on this note,” he said. “We just can’t.” 

“I agree,” Joey agreed cheerfully, laughing as Mack buried his head into his hands. “Not after I just got a ‘one kiss card’ from you. And I’d like to put it into effect now.” 

“Yeah, Mack!” Skye cheered. “Kiss!” She and Lincoln fell into a chant. “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” Mack sighed before leaning back over to kiss Joey, the entire team whooping. 

“Just pick a damn card, Joey,” Mack mumbled. Joey chuckled before picking another one. “‘What don’t you want to find in your Kung Pao chicken?’”

“Dammit, why couldn’t I have played lactation  _ now _ ?” Lincoln whined as he put down his card.    


“Alright,” Joey put on a dramatic voice. “Things you don’t want to find in your Kung Pao chicken.  _ Wifely duties.  _ Yeah, which ones?  _ Farting and walking away. Funky fresh rhymes. A gentle caress of the inner thigh. Civilian casualties. _ ” He gagged, imagining a finger in his chicken. “Actually, I wouldn’t put it past the Thai place we bought food from last time.  _ A mime having a stroke.  _ If he’s in the chicken, isn’t he already dead?  _ Seppuku.  _ Oh, god.  _ Mr. Clean, right behind you. A brain tumor -  _ jeez, who comes up with this stuff? -  _ Menstrual rage, and women in yogurt commercials.  _ Okay, first off, let me start off by saying I never want to be in a kitchen with any of you. Except for whoever put ‘funky fresh rhymes’.” He made a flailing motion. “Who put a brain tumor? Because really, you’re one real sicko!” 

Bobbi raised an eyebrow as she collected her winnings. “Remember who you’re talking to, Gutierrez,” she teased as she flipped through her index cards. “Aw, Hunter, I didn’t know you cared enough to give me five gallons of your hot water.” Hunter blanched. “For a month? That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me. Even when we were married.” 

Lian made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a choking laugh. 

“An afternoon free from being a test subject, oh thank God.” She held up the card towards Fitz. “I swear I’m invoking this the next time you want to test something cosmetic. I’m still itchy from that concealer you made me try.” Bobbi frowned as she withdrew a card that simply read ‘One kiss. Unlimited use’. She flashed the card to the group. “There’s no name on this card. Anyone know whose it is?” 

“No,” “No idea,” “Not a clue,” went around like a chorus. Lian and May looked offended that Bobbi would ask such a thing. Even Simmons shook her head emphatically, which made Bobbi narrow her eyes suspiciously. She raised an eyebrow at the younger scientist, gesturing towards her with the index card. Simmons just shook her head and blushed, turning away to Lian. 

“So,” she said brightly. “What are we playing next?”

* * *

‘Next’ turned out to be a long row of utensils stacked along the table, a double deck of cards set next to one seat as they all piled in. “Better treat your index cards like they’re money,” Lian announced as they all hopped onto their stools. “Because we’re playing spoons.” 

“One card for each round of eleven of us. You lose, your card goes into the pool.” May grinned. “Winner gets everything.”

“Um, May?” Skye and Simmons asked timidly in unison. “How do you play spoons?” 

Everyone looked at them, mouths agape. 

“So the cards get passed down the line,” Lincoln jumped in to demonstrate. “And you start with four cards, see? What you want to do is try and get four of a number, and you do it by checking the cards that are passed to you. Once you get four, you try and grab a spoon. The last one doesn’t get one and is automatically out.” 

“Are you ready, Jem?” Bobbi asked with a grin. “I’m going to warn you all now, I have master reflexes.” 

“I call no powers!” Fitz said suddenly, smirking when Lincoln, Skye and Joey all turned to glare at him. “What? They all posed a viable threat to our chances.” 

“And go!” Coulson started off the chain, and there was silence for a while, save for the ruffling of cards and the occasional slapping onto the table. 

Lian was the first one to finish, and she silently grabbed for a spoon. It took several seconds for Skye to notice, and she was slightly more obvious in grabbing hers; but no one was still the wiser. 

The frenzy didn’t begin until Joey swiped for his, accidentally clattering it to the ground. The kitchen was suddenly a mass of screams, yells, and shoves as each of them tried to grab a spoon. Mack ended up tackling Joey on the ground for his, holding it triumphantly when he managed to get ahold of it. 

Fitz let out a yell as he elbowed Hunter in the stomach, grabbing the spoon from his clenched fist. Soon, it was just Bobbi and Simmons left fighting for the last spoon, and the team looked on, eyes wide, as they faced down, each of them tugging on the poor metal utensil. 

Without breaking eye contact, Bobbi reached into her back pocket, yanked out the unnamed index card, and slapped it onto the counter. “I know it’s yours,” she whispered to Simmons, her expression fierce. “I’m calling one in right now.”

With that, she leaned in and kissed her, the entire kitchen letting out a gasp as Simmons, thoroughly shocked, let go of the spoon to reach up and tangle her hands into Bobbi’s hair. The other woman pulled back, smirking as she twirled the spoon between her fingers. The index card was tucked into her back pocket once more, ready to be used on future occasions. “That was almost too easy.” 

Simmons’ mouth formed unintelligible words, each of them growing longer and more languid until she finally let out a strangled gasp and ran off, barely holding in her tears. Stunned, Bobbi made a move to go after her, but was stopped by Skye. “Don’t,” she advised. “You can’t help the situation right now. Anything you say at this point is only going to make her worse.” 

By the end of the round, several scuffles had occurred, including a memorable insult-slinging session between the Mays. (Skye was  _ certain  _ she now knew several new swears in a myriad of languages.) It was down to the last spoon, and Fitz and Lian were staring each other down, both of them with a match in their hand but daring the other to make the first move. 

Then, with a triumphant cry, Fitz grabbed the spoon, slapping down his cards happily. He fanned through his winnings. “Hot water, chores, more hot water, more chores, the ice cream, wow, Skye, thanks!” He gasped when he held up a card, turning to Coulson. “Sir, does this really say ‘authorization to have  _ any  _ one thing we ask for’?” 

Coulson soon realized his mistake, his stomach sinking. Still, a deal was a deal. “It does say anything, Fitz.” 

“Yes!” Fitz slammed the card down on the table amid several groans. “We’re getting a monkey!” 


	12. hot pot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions continue to run high as a hot pot night begins.

“Jem?” Skye whispered the next morning when Simmons began to stir, looking down where her best friend’s nose was currently buried into her stomach. “Jem, you awake?” 

Simmons’ eyes fluttered open, registering the arm around her waist and immediately beginning to push it away. “Bobbi...don’,” she muttered, attempting to extricate herself from Skye’s grasp. When she only held on tighter, Simmons’ pleads grew in emotion. “Please jus’ don’, Bobbi...”

“Jem, it’s not Bobbi,” Skye reassured her softly. When Simmons continued to thrash, still pleading, Skye grabbed her closer. “Jemma, it’s me, Skye. You’re fine. It’s just me, not Bobbi. It’s just me.” Slowly, Simmons’ thrashing slowed, and she turned to face her best friend, realization setting in. 

“Sorry,” she squeaked out apologetically. “I though’...I thought that after the lion dance lesson...”

“Yeah, well, I had to pull a lot of crap with Lincoln to get this,” Skye joked, trying to lighten the mood. When that didn’t work, she went straight in for the kill. “How you feeling, Jem?”

“I’m feeling fine, why do you...” The events of the day before hit Simmons like a brick, and she turned pale. “She kissed me.” She turned away in shock, looking surprisingly nauseated. “Bobbi kissed me. Oh my god.” A well of nausea threatened to shoot up in her throat. “Skye, I think I’m going to be sick.” 

“Ooookay,” Quickly, Skye whisked Simmons into her arms and ran her to the bathroom, barely getting her hair back before Simmons let loose a couple of dry heaves, tears streaming to her eyes. 

“Is she alright?” May’s concerned voice floated into the bathroom.

“She’s fine...I think,” Skye muttered as Simmons slumped to the bathroom floor, her head in her hands. May appeared around the corner, gently crouching down to rub Simmons’ back. “She remembered Bobbi kissing her yesterday and nearly hurled.”

“Simmons? Simmons, can you hear me?” May called, and Simmons nodded. “I’m going to make you some tea, and you’re going to tell us everything, okay?” Skye nodded in place for her best friend, and May scuttled off to the kitchen. 

“Let’s get you back to your bunk, alright Jem?” Skye gently helped Simmons up and back to her room, shooting a concerned look to Lincoln as they passed by him. Lincoln just pursed his lips, nodding in concern. 

Soon, May returned with a piping cup of hot tea, which Simmons immediately took into her hands, sniffling. “She kissed me for  _ fun _ ,” Simmons whispered. “As an endgame. And it hit me just then. I’m only a bloody  _ friend _ .” 

May bit her lip, exchanging a look with Skye. “Sometimes, all fairy tales start with a pair of best friends,” she said comfortingly. “Not everything that starts a certain way ends a certain way. You of all people should know that, right?” 

“We’re not chemistry, May, although I do appreciate the comparison,” Simmons gave a watery laugh. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I should be the one to change things. After all, why waste time on something that’s never going to come to you?”

Skye paled. This was  _ so  _ not how she’d imagined her morning going. “Wait, what? What are you talking about, Jem?”

“I’m talking about moving on, of course!” Now that she’d arrived at her conclusion, Simmons looked much more refreshed - almost as if she’d forgotten about the entire incident in the first place. “I’ve clearly got no place with Bobbi. What’s more there to say?”

“No, no no no no no, Jem, you can’t do that.” Simmons’ happiness depended on it. Her  _ work  _ depended on it. Hell, there was even  _ money  _ depending on it! “Please don’t do that.” 

“Skye,” Simmons laughed. “This is clearly what’s best for me.” She sighed happily. “My first chance at peace since I got back from that blasted planet.”

* * *

“Can’t I just throw another jar of Tiger Balm at her?” May complained. 

“No,” Lian replied patiently. “You’re the poor girl’s mother figure, Melinda. It’s about time you bucked up and did things maturely. Even if they’re not necessarily the right way to do them.” When May still didn’t look convinced, she sighed. “If you do this maturely, I’ll take you out for hot pot.” 

May regarded her mother seriously. “Those are some serious stakes, Mom.” 

“Gotta take my grandkids at  _ some  _ point, don’t I?” Lian patted May on the back. “Now, go. The sooner you do it, the sooner we can figure out where the best hot pot buffet is. And it’d better have sushi.” With a last sigh, May headed around the corner to where Bobbi was plopped on the couch, reading a book. 

When she felt May’s weight sink down beside her, Bobbi let out a sigh and put down her book. “Do you want me to apologize for last night?” she demanded. “Because I’m not going to. Not in the damn least.” 

“No one’s asking you to apologize,” May said quietly. “I am informing you, however, that your actions last night completely broke Simmons, and she, convinced that you only want to be friends, is determined to get over you.” 

“Get over me?” Bobbi asked, puzzled. “Why would she want to get over...” She blinked. “You’re joking, right?” She gestured to a corner of the room. “This isn’t some sort of giant prank and Campbell’s not going to leap out somewhere with a video camera?” When May didn’t say a word, Bobbi let out a sharp laugh. “Me.”

“Are you serious about her?”

“ _ Serious _ ?” Bobbi squawked, and for a fleeting second, May thought she was going to have to actually kill someone. “May, I couldn’t be more serious about Jemma if I tried. She means the  _ world  _ to me. I haven’t - I haven’t slept in nearly three days.” She let out a little half-laugh. “Ever since she fell asleep in my arms,” she confessed self-deprecatingly. “I’m missing a warmth, y’know? It’s not the same sleeping alone.” She threw up her hands. “And now she’s going to get over me. It’s done. It’s over.” 

“I think that’s all you can do, Melinda,” Lian called. “Come on. Let’s go find out where the best place to get hot pot is.”

* * *

“Are we going to eat mildly suspicious foods again?” Fitz asked in a slightly higher voice than normal. They’d sat down at a long table, four large bowls of broth set onto burners built into the table. “Tell me there are no cow intestines.” 

“Aw, come on, mate,” Hunter ribbed. “You liked that stuff. At least it wasn’t chicken feet.” 

“There are  _ no  _ chicken feet this time, Hunter,” May informed him from her spot next to Fitz. She was already looking over the menu, a pencil in her hand as she decided what to order. “Mom, are we getting the silken tofu or the ice one?”

“Get the silken one, honey,” Lian said, waving a hand at her daughter. “You’re the only one that eats ice tofu, and frankly, I don’t understand.” 

“There’s a difference?” Hunter and Fitz squeaked in unison. 

“Of course there is,” Lincoln said calmly as he made little ‘1’ marks all over his paper. “So, Skye, Joey, Mack.” He turned, addressing the three other agents he was sharing broth with. “This is hot pot. There are four essential things you need for hot pot.” He picked up a half-sphere spoon with several circular lines running through its depths. “This is to scoop up the stuff out of the pot.” He pointed at the cluster of sauces sitting next to him. “This is everything you’ll need to make your sauce. Soy sauce, scallions, ginger, XO sauce. Hoisin sauce. And I think some odd peanut butter. Your plate, of course. And lastly, your chopsticks.” He picked them up, clacking them together. “Use one end for grabbing uncooked food. Eat with the other. Cross-contamination is a very real thing, and after that Thai food we ate not too long ago, I’m not sure anyone wants a repeated day on the toilet.”

* * *

“Jem,” Bobbi said nervously as she took her seat. All of the other agents seemed to have grabbed their chairs as if they’d been assigned, leaving the two of them to sit across from each other. “How are you?”

“Why so nervous, Bobbi?” Simmons chirped cheerfully as she reached for the soy sauce. “It isn’t like you haven’t had hot pot before, has it?” She wasn’t even shaking as she lied, Bobbi noticed sadly.  _ Not even a stutter.  _ “I’m doing quite fine, thank you for asking. How are  _ you _ ?” 

_ Terrible,  _ Bobbi wanted to reply.  _ I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I let you cross my mind during sparring today and May knocked me flat on my ass. That kiss wasn’t for fun.  _ “I’m doing great,” she lied, gritting her teeth. “I couldn’t be better.”

She searched Simmons’ expression then, hoping to find some sort of proof that the other girl was indeed lying, and was merely putting on an act for her own sake. But there was nothing but sincerity in Simmons’ eyes, and, if she thought hard enough, a little bit of pity. “Are you sure you’re alright, Bobbi? You look like someone’s killed your cat.” 

There wasn’t a single hint of a lie anywhere. “Yeah, Jem. I’m fine.”

* * *

“Bloody hell, is that a  _ shrimp _ ?” Hunter whined as the waitress placed the plates of food onto the the table. He peered at the tiny gray crustacean, which was waving its antennae feebly. “Do they just take it out of a tank or something?”

Lian gave him a deadpan look. “What kind of Asians would we be if we didn’t?” She immediately snatched up a shrimp with her chopsticks, dumping it into the broth before swishing her chopsticks to sterilize them. 

Down the table, Mack was eagerly dumping a hodge-podge of sauces into his bowl, stirring them together until they reached what he dubbed ‘the Sauce’. “You’ve been watching too much  _ New Girl _ , man,” Joey said with a weird look. “And I’m pretty sure you’ve got way too much XO sauce in there.” 

“Naw, I’m fine,” Mack waved a hand as he reached for some beef to dunk into the pot. “You should’ve seen me back in the day. I used to take down whole squadrons of army men with a bottle of hot sauce.” A freshly-cooked piece of beef was lifted out of the broth and dunked into the sauce, completely covering it. “Cheers,” Mack held up the piece of meat before tossing it whole into his mouth, chewing silently. 

Joey, Lincoln and Skye all watched as Mack’s face suddenly turned red, accompanied by a large bout of coughing. Smirking, Skye gently quaked the taller man on the back, handing over a glass of water once the tears had stopped streaming out of his eyes. 

“I told you it was some spicy shit,” Lincoln chuckled as he handed over another full glass across the table. “You didn’t take me seriously, and this is what you get.” 

“I never want to do that again,” Mack wheezed, chugging the glass and then some. “Where the hell do they get that sort of stuff?” 

“Asians,” Lian called down the table, raising her glass in a mock toast. “If we told people our secrets, then everyone would know.” 

“How the hell am I supposed to tell if the thing’s cooked or not?” Skye asked as she squinted at the pot, eyeing it level with its lip. “May said take it out when it’s floating, but the last time I did that, the clam tried to eat me.”

“Don’t look at me, I’m just as confused as you are,” Lincoln said, lowering his head so that he was looking at it the same way Skye was. “I just know you take the meat out when it’s turned completely pink. Same goes for salmon. And the shrimp.” They watched the soup bubble and a fishball bobble to the surface, eyeing it nervously. 

Another one joined the first. Then, four were bobbing on the surface of the soup, and the four of them looked at each other. “Should we all take a bite?” Mack asked nervously. 

“I’m game if you are,” Joey volunteered. Lincoln went first, scooping up a bright pink fishball and dunking it in sauce. All four of them were rapidly poised to take a bite when they heard a loud scream. 

Skye’s fishball slipped out of her chopsticks and flew across the table, landing smack in May’s bowl. Sauce flew everywhere, only adding to the commotion that seemed to be occurring. 

A shrimp (who hadn’t been quite ready to go into the soup, it seemed) had made a daring mistake from its platter, flopping across the table until it landed in Coulson’s lap, making the normally calm director letting out a loud scream as he leaped up onto his chair. Lian was filming the whole thing for posterity as May tried to coax him down. 

“Lance, I’d expect,” Lian tutted as Coulson stepped down slowly, clutching his chest. “Maybe Leo or Jemma. Barbara if she was especially jumpy. But you, Philip? You’re awfully embarrassing to have as a relative.” 

Coulson just glared at her. “Skye  _ definitely  _ makes better  _ joong  _ than you do.”

* * *

“Ah, yes, the last challenge of the gremlin,” Hunter said relishingly as the last platters hit the table. The pots of broth had all been cooled and cleared, all of the agents nearly stuffed to the brim. “What are we eating this time? Octopus? Puffer fish? Believe it or not, I’ve actually eaten one of those and survived -” 

“Hunter, you considered jumping from the Golden Gate Bridge before you let me take you to the ER,” Bobbi called down the table before resuming her conversation with Simmons. Anyone could clearly see the frustration in her body language - she knew Simmons was hiding something, but was lying too well to reveal it. 

It  _ infuriated  _ Bobbi. More than her infatuation with the woman. 

“It’s fried ice cream, Lance,” Lian deadpanned, rolling her eyes as she picked up a spoon. “I don’t know what crazy ideas you’ve got in your head, but I can assure you that none of them are true.” 

“Just fried ice cream?” Hunter asked, slightly irritated at being called by his first name. “Or is it something more? Fried ice cream with seaweed sprinkles? Or gummy tripe? Or, wait for it - is it toad?” 

“Just eat it, Hunter,” Coulson quipped from the end of the table. “I’d like to get back to the Bus as soon as possible.” He was covered in a large splotch of sauce, courtesy of Skye when her fishball had hit May’s bowl. “This sauce’s starting to smell.” 

“‘S not my fault May put so much faux peanut butter in her sauce,” Skye muttered, stabbing at her ice cream. “What Asian uses so much peanut butter, anyways?” She dug into the cold treat, shoveling tempura and ice cream alike in her mouth. “Damn, this is good. Where’s it been all my life?”

Lincoln looked slightly hurt. “Are you saying you’re choosing that fried ice cream over me?” Skye pulled the spoon from her mouth with a slight  _ pop. _

“Lincoln, you were always second to ice cream,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “I thought you knew better than that.” 


	13. bi san

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bai san: the act of paying respect to your ancestors at the grave. you bring all sorts of food, line it up and pay your respects.

“ _ What do you mean, you haven’t shown it to them? _ ” 

Lian faced off with May, her expression stormy. “You have to show it to them. You  _ have  _ to.” 

“But Mom, it’s so embarrassing!” There were only a handful of times that Melinda May had winced, and this was one of them. “Do you know how bad that would make me look?” 

“I heard the word ‘May’ and ‘embarrassing’ in the same sentence.” May and Lian jumped as Skye suddenly appeared from out of nowhere, grinning. “What happened, Lian?” 

Lian and May exchanged glances. “You tell her, or I will.” May heaved out a long sigh, holding up a DVD case. “It’s about time I educated you children on a bit of your mother’s history.”

Skye looked positively gleeful. “MOVIE TIME, GUYS!”

* * *

“Don’t sit there,” May said as Coulson passed by the couch, about to sit next to Simmons. She didn’t even look up at him as he walked by. “Find another seat. That one’s Morse’s.” 

“I thought they weren’t speaking?” Coulson asked questioningly as he plopped down next to Mack and Joey.    


May’s lips curled up into a smile. “Exactly.” 

“I asked Bobbi to get the popcorn - she’ll be a little late,” Skye announced to the room at large as she rushed in, immediately dropping into Lincoln’s lap. To Simmons, it was soon painfully clear that there was only one seat left for Bobbi: next to her.

“I got the popcorn, I just didn’t realize there’d be so much,” Bobbi said breathlessly as she rushed in, handing bowls of popcorn to each group. “Hey, Jem!” she said cheerfully when she arrived at the empty spot. “Mind if I jump in next to you?” 

“No, not at all,” Simmons answered, immediately scooting over as Bobbi plopped down into the seat with an audible sigh of relief. “Even got the popcorn ready.” 

“Hey, so, um, here’s the thing,” Bobbi said sheepishly, turning to Simmons as the lights dimmed. “I haven’t slept well in the last four days. So...if I fall asleep on you, just make sure you shove me to the floor, okay?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t  _ shove  _ you to the floor, per se, that’s just inhumane,” Simmons scoffed, rolling her eyes before realizing Bobbi was serious. “Oh. You were serious. Yes, of course. I’ll wake you up.”

Bobbi smiled then, a small quirk of the lips that nearly made Simmons drop her heavily constructed facade. “Thanks, Jem.” 

“Wow,  _ Mulan _ ,” Skye said as the Disney castle logo appeared onscreen. “I haven’t seen this movie in  _ ages.  _ Mushu was always my favorite, you know. I was never loved enough by my family to be Mulan.” 

“Once, when I was little, I put a cricket in my mom’s tea because of this movie,” Lincoln admitted. “She wouldn’t let me near the backyard or the tea kettle for weeks.” 

“Shang is  _ fine, _ ” Joey marvelled out loud, only to be met with a look from Mack. “Sorry, man, but he was my goals for a year or two. Then I fell in love with my high school history teacher.” 

“Now, the lesson of this story is to always read the fine print of your mission debriefs,” Lian said as the camera began to pan in on a young woman, painting lines on her arm in black ink. “This particular agent didn’t, and it didn’t turn out so well for her.” 

Coulson hid a smile. He knew what was coming next. 

_ “One for grace, one for beauty... _ ” 

“OH MY GOD, IS THAT MAY?!” Skye’s revelation made them all jump about a foot in the air, including Bobbi, who’d just nearly fallen asleep in Simmons’ lap. She glanced at the scientist apologetically before straightening up. “Holy hell!” she exclaimed, turning around to shake Lincoln’s shoulders. “It’s  _ May _ !” 

“Laugh it up,” May said dryly as Skye shrieked over her newfound discovery. “Laugh it up, Skye.” 

“Oh my  _ god  _ May, you were a Disney princess while you were undercover once...” Skye couldn’t seem to control her laughter, falling into Lincoln while she giggled uncontrollably. “You had to act. Like a  _ princess _ ! Did you do the characters on ice and everything?” 

“Well, if you wanted to see that, all you had to do was ask!” Lian exclaimed, carefully getting up from her chair to change the video. “Did she ever tell you about the times she’s gone undercover as an ice skater, too? Not just amateur. I’m talking real Michelle Kwan competition.” 

“Is there anything you  _ can’t  _ do?” Skye asked in awe as a grainy video of a tiny Melinda May came up, the small girl on the screen holding a small bouquet of flowers as she skated in a lazy figure eight. 

“Yes,” Lian said matter-of-factly before May could respond. “Your adoptive mother cannot golf to save her life. And before you ask, yes I also have video of that. Several, actually. Her father insisted on teaching her multiple times.” 

“Wait, I just wanna see May do the triple-axel first,” Skye held up a hand, mesmerized by the skater’s fluidity and grace.  _ She was basically related to this woman. A legend.  _ “You think any of that talent passed down onto me?” she murmured. 

“Technically, it shouldn’t, seeing as neither of you are related -” Simmons was cut off as Bobbi’s head finally tipped over from the other end of the couch and into her lap. Instantly, Bobbi went from threatening agent to docile sweetheart. “Oh, bloody hell, how do I do this?”

“You said you were over her, didn’t you?” Skye hissed. “Then it shouldn’t be that hard!”

“Right,” Simmons stuttered. “Actually, I think I’ll just leave her like this. Saves us a lot of effort and possible strained muscles later.” Slowly, she moved a hand to brush off a strand of Bobbi’s hair on her face, her movements stiff and unyielding. “Besides, the poor girl hasn’t slept in four days. Leave her alone some.” 

She missed the unintelligible  _ “Jem _ ,” Bobbi made as she wrapped an arm around Simmons’ waist, bringing in more of Simmons to hold before falling asleep once more.

* * *

_ “Dishonor on you, dishonor on your cow....!”  _

“Cue the shoe,” Coulson said suddenly. True to his word, a shoe hit Mushu in the head. 

“Y'know, your grandmother tells me you haven't been by to see her in some time,” Lian said causally to May as the agents watched the rest of the scene play out. “And you know she loved you very much.”

“Mom, I literally spent the last three years getting shot at,” May deadpanned. “You tell me when I would've had a time to go pay respects to  _ po po, _ ” 

“Now's a better time than ever,” Lian shrugged. “Besides, I'm sure the ancestors’ll be  _ thrilled  _ that both of us showed up for once. You know how many times I had to explain your absence to your  _ ye ye _ ? He thinks you went and eloped with a Mexican.”

“A  _ Mexican?”  _ May groaned. “With the imagination he had, he didn't come up with anything better than a  _ Mexican?  _ You've gotta stop talking to the ancestors, Mom.”

“Melinda Qiaolian May, you're going to go  _ bi san  _ this year, even if it kills me,” Lian swore. “And your ancestors are going to be happy that you came to visit, even if it's in the middle of February.”

“Yes, but - with  _ them _ ?” May whispered, looking frantically around at the circle of agents she'd adopted. “You know how Great Aunt Xiu hated white people.”

“Oh, that bitch?” Lian snorted. “Please. She can rot in hell for all I care. Now stop whining and let's go get a chicken.”

* * *

“We have to make a very short stop in Manhattan Chinatown,” May said later as they were all strapped into the Quinjet. “As a result, feel free to explore, but do  _ not  _ go anywhere without a partner. And no, FitzSimmons, you are  _ not  _ allowed to go with each other,” she said when FitzSimmons instantly grabbed hands. “The last time you two buddied up, we had to save the Sears Tower from blowing up.”

“All we wanted to do was test its structural ability!” Simmons protested as Fitz made a noise of impatience. “We didn’t mean to damage the primary beam!” Skye shushed her then, and she looked down to see Bobbi, who was curled up across several seats, snoring lightly. “Oh. Right. Sorry. But we didn’t want to do any harm! We swear!”

“Regardless, I’m not letting you two blow up the Empire State Building. Coulson grinned. “That’s why I’m assigning you two with Hunter and Morse.” 

“WHAT?!” Simmons’ shriek was loud enough that Bobbi woke with a start, immediately rolling over and hitting the ground. 

“Ow...”

“What’s so bad about it?” Skye asked once she’d ascertained that Bobbi was okay. “I mean, you  _ said  _ you were over her, right?” When Simmons didn’t respond immediately, she pressed on. “Unless you’re not.” More silence. “I  _ knew  _ it! No  _ friend  _ would let the other person sleep in their lap for so long!” 

“I thought I told you to wake me up, Simmons,” Bobbi groaned, and the room seemed to drop ten degrees as they all registered Bobbi calling Simmons by her last name. Even Simmons herself seemed to realize it, blinking furiously as she realized the change in atmosphere. 

But May was having none of it. “Morse, Simmons. Hunter, Fitz.” She strode towards the cockpit. “Touching down in ten.”

* * *

“You’ve got to be  _ kidding  _ me,” Lian swore as she saw the queue outside the chicken livery. “At this rate, we won’t get to the cemetery before tomorrow!” She turned to May. “How’d you get your food last time?”

May raised an eyebrow. “Well, if you insist...”

* * *

“ _ OUT OF MY WAY, BITCH!” _

Simmons looked up at Bobbi as she observed the crowd of chickens and people. “You  _ did  _ translate that correctly, right? I didn’t think Lian was the type to swear.”

“Of course I did, Simmons.” There it was again. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

* * *

“Well, I think that was fairly successful,” Lian said as they loaded up the Quinjet with food and incense. “Aside from the part where I almost got trampled by a lion dance, I think that was pretty good for the Chinatown hoards.” 

“Lian, we almost lost you  _ to  _ the Chinatown hoardes!” Simmons exclaimed. “If Mack hadn’t pulled you out, we might as well have!” 

“May I remind you, Simmons, that we almost lost  _ you  _ to that flying meat cleaver!” Bobbi jumped in, her blue eyes snapping. “What made you think it was a good idea to try and steal some pork in the chaos?!”

“I am perfectly well at defending myself,  _ Agent  _ Morse!” Simmons snapped back, angrily setting down her bags. Bobbi stopped, taken aback. “There was  _ no  _ need for you to step in and take him out with one of your batons!” 

“Now, let’s not lose our tempers here,” Skye said cautiously, trying to stave off a fight. “Bobbi, I agree that Jem shouldn’t have jumped into the fray, but she’s got a point; she’s perfectly capable of defending herself -”

“I was assigned to keep you _safe_!” Bobbi screamed, completely ignoring Skye. “Do you have _any_ idea how I felt when I turned around and you were gone? Do you?” When Simmons opened her mouth, she continued in her tirade. “I was fucking _terrified,_ Simmons, okay? You. Could. Have. Gone. _Anywhere._ _Anything_ could have happened to you!”

“But nothing did!” Simmons shouts, her face red. “And I suppose I can’t mean  _ that  _ much to you,  _ Agent  _ Morse. After all, you seem to find it fit to call me by my last name!” She stormed off, and distantly, they heard the sound of a door slamming. 

Bobbi’s choked whisper broke the terse silence that followed.  _ “Jem... _ ”

* * *

“The purpose of  _ bi san  _ is to pay respect to your ancestors, no matter how many generations they go back,” May called from the front of the group as they trooped up the cemetery row. Tombstones lined both sides of the grassy lane, sloping all the way up and down a gentle slope. “You bring them food and alcohol as offerings, and you usually light incense. Some people light firecrackers, but we ran out a few days ago.” 

“Normally, some families would have to go all over the place to pay respects to all of their ancestors, but apparently we were smart enough way back when to get a giant plot, so it’ll hold a few more generations yet of us.” Lian called as they reached the top of the hill. They stopped at a large limestone building held up by pillars, the ornate roof reading  _ MAY  _ in large block letters. “Alphonso, if you could lay down the tarp here, please.” 

Mack muttered under his breath as he laid down the tarp, May busying herself by grabbing the ash barrel, cutting board and offering dishes. The rest of them started to set out the food, Bobbi and Simmons perhaps with a bit more ferocity than usual. 

“Usually, families have chicken, pork, buns and whatever else can get cooked up to offer to the relatives,” May explained, waving a hand over the spread. “There’s some alcohol, which we pour in the three cups here -” She poured some rice wine into three tiny teacups, which she spilled over the front of the mausoleum. “Then there’s the incense,” she grunted, leaning down to light a handful of sticks, planting them into the ground next to the stone building. 

“We’ve got the money to send to the afterlife,” Lian added as she removed a large sheaf of papers from one of their bags, fanning them out in a star-like motion before pressing them down with a rock. “Some of it goes directly onto the offering. Others we have to burn, so the ash goes up into the afterlife and the ancestors can spend it however they’d like.” She threw in a handful of papers, watching as they crackled merrily in the sunlight. 

“Here’s the final part,” May said, picking up another sheaf of papers. “In order to pay our respects, you have to hold the sheaf of papers in your hands and bow three times. Like so.” She bowed at the waist once, twice, three times before handing the sheaf off to Lian, who did the same. 

“Skye, I’d like you to come up first,” Lian said, holding out the sheaf of paper to the young Inhuman. When Skye looked hesitant, she made a gesturing motion. “The ancestors won’t bite, I promise. You can take Lincoln with you if you’d like.” 

“Will you?” Skye asked in a small voice, turning to Lincoln. “I don’t...I don’t want to screw this up.” Lincoln nodded solemnly, walking up and taking Skye’s hand. Together, they walked up to the entrance, each of them holding half of the paper. “Together?” Skye whispered, and Lincoln nodded. They bent three times in succession, and a sense of peace stole over Skye as she completed her third bow, causing her to clutch the paper tightly. 

“You okay?” Lincoln asked, and she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. 

“I finally know my entire family,” she whispered, staring numbly at the paper. “The one thing I’ve been searching for my entire life. And it’s right here.” Lincoln gathered her into his arms as she let out a sob, May coming over and gently prying the sheaf out of her hands as she hugged her daughter. 

“The sooner you bow, the sooner we can all eat,” she said, handing the sheaf to Simmons. “And the sooner you all get to see my mother have her annual screaming fit at the ancestors.” 


	14. breakfast joong and sleepless nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations are had, the May women eat joong for breakfast, and Skye gets a valuable gift.

“Hey, so Mom had to leave really early this morning,” May said as she walked into the kitchen, handing Skye a small parcel. “She wanted to give you this, though. Said it was about cementing a family bond,” She frowned as she took in what Skye was eating. “Skye, are you eating  _ joong  _ for breakfast?” 

“We had nothing else in the fridge, so I thought it’d be better than nothing,” Skye shrugged, forking a clump of rice before shoveling it into her mouth. “Besides, I need the thinking power if I’m going to succeed in my plan.”

“Which is?” May asked as she fished her own  _ joong  _ out of the fridge. “Don’t tell Coulson” was all she said before plopping the mass in the microwave. “If you’re going to marry Lincoln, at least give Coulson and I time to give him the shovel talk.”

“What? May,  _ no _ !” Skye exclaimed, choking on a peanut. “Besides, I’ve already said to Lincoln that he’s gotta ask you, Coulson, Lian and the ancestors first.” She chuckled. “I think that’s scared him off for at least five years.” 

May took a seat next to Skye, drizzling soy sauce all over her  _ joong.  _ “Good. I’d hate to have to threaten him during the New Year. Happy last day, by the way.” Without looking up, they clinked their coffee cups. “You guys get to open your red envelopes today.”

“Sounds exciting,” Skye said, shovelling some more rice into her mouth. “Personally, I can’t wait to see Hunter get less money.”

“You get married, that’s what you get,” May shrugged. “Red envelopes are really meant for those who aren’t.”

“Remind me to never get married, then,” Skye noted through a mouthful of peanuts. “I’ll watch everyone else get married. Like Bobbi and Simmons.” 

“If they ever recover from yesterday,” Lincoln scoffed, shuffling into the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure they’re way past that stage of pretending they could be just friends and freezing each other out instead.” He stopped, staring at the two of them. “Are you two eating  _ joong... _ ?”

“Yes.”

* * *

“Good morning, Fitz!” Simmons chirped as she sailed into the lab, two mugs of tea in her hand. “How’s the progress on Sleepy going?” 

Fitz took the mug without even looking up from the holotable. “Isn’t there someone else you’d like to say ‘good morning’ to, Jem?” Simmons’ eyes scanned over the lab, determinedly ignoring Bobbi. The biochemist seemed to get the message and turned away miserably, defeat in her stance. 

“No, I don’t think so,” she said, sipping her tea. “There’s only you this morning, unless Skye’s around here somewhere. That’d be quite the mystery.” 

“Jemma...” Fitz sighed, flipping his goggles off of his head. “Don’t you think you’re taking your grudge against Bobbi a wee bit far?” 

“Me? A grudge against Agent Morse? Why  _ ever _ would I do that?” The door to the lab slammed shut, and they turned to see Bobbi slumping down the hallway to the bunks. Fitz turned back to Simmons.

“Tha’s the first time she’s left the lab since we got back from the cemetery yesterday,” he said gravely. “I’ve been, uh, watching the security cameras at night, and she doesn’t leave, Jemma. Ever. She doesn’t sleep. She doesn’t eat. I watched her try to sleep once, and she tossed and turned for an hour before getting back up. She’s a  _ mess _ , Jemma,” he concluded, tapping away at a tablet. “At the rate she’s going, she’s going to pass out from dehydration and exhaustion soon.” 

“I fail to see what part I’ve got in that,” Simmons protested feebly, although she knew full well that events of lately had been a large factor in her...what, exactly? Her friend? Her teammate? Bobbi would never be her girlfriend, that was for sure. She herself had said it. 

“Here,” Fitz thrust the tablet at her, rewinding the security footage he’d pulled up. “I think the audio’s plenty explanation for you.” With that, he left the lab, leaving Simmons to press a shaking finger to the screen.

Her heart and stomach dropped five stories as she noted the timestamp in the corner.  _ It was three bloody am. What was Bobbi doing?  _ She watched as the other woman let a test tube slip from her hand out of exhaustion, cursing under her breath. Sweeping up the shards, Bobbi rested her forehead on the counter for a moment, taking a deep breath.  _ “I gotta get some sleep _ ,” 

“Yes, Bobbi, please do,” Simmons whispered timidly to the screen, uncaring if anyone heard her or not. “You shouldn’t put yourself through the paces like this.” She watched as Bobbi gingerly lay down on the small couch they kept in the lab, curling into the wall before shutting her eyes. 

Simmons quickly noticed Bobbi didn’t quite know where to put her hands, shifting them several positions before setting them down vertically, and even then that didn’t work. Next, she reached for a pillow, hugging it against her before tossing it away in disgust. Finally, she sat up, hugging her knees to her chest before fishing her phone out of her lab coat pocket and pulling up a video. Though the sound was tinny, Simmons could make the voices out clearly. 

_ “And here we have the biochemist extraordinaire,”  _ Bobbi’s teasing voice echoed through the speakers, and Simmons could imagine the grin that was on her face as she turned the camera to her subject.  _ “Jemma Simmons, what are we up to today?”  _

Simmons vividly remembered that day; Bobbi training a camera on her, laughing as Simmons managed to stumble her way through an explanation of what she’d been working on at the moment. Blushing as she’d wrapped Simmons in a hug before darting off to film Fitz. How the space around her had felt empty after Bobbi had left; how the lack of warmth had stayed with her for the rest of the day. 

She watched as Bobbi pulled up another video, tears clinging to the edges of her eyelashes as more sound exploded from the speakers.  _ “I come home, in the morning light, my mother says what you gonna do with your life... _ ” 

“Oh my god, not that,” Simmons’ hand covers her mouth briefly in spite of herself, staring down at the tablet. “Not the karaoke video.” She can vaguely hear Bobbi and the others cheering her own, the individual voices drowned out by the pumping bass of the music. 

One more video turns into two, then three, and soon an hour passed with Simmons simply watching the feed, in awe of just how many times Bobbi had managed to catch her on camera. Sometimes she was the victim of a prank. Sometimes she was the mastermind of one. Other times, it was just Simmons simply sitting around, doing what seems to be some quiet activity, sounding surprised when Bobbi’s voice rang out with a simple, yet amused,  _ “Hi, Jem _ .” 

Finally, an hour and a half after Simmons had started, and when tear tracks had etched themselves onto Bobbi’s face, the last video was played. She watched as Bobbi slowly lowered herself to lie down once more, the glow of her screen emphasizing her puffy, red eyes. A moment of silence passed before the strains of a piano began to pipe through the speakers. The music grew as Bobbi had seemingly stepped into the room, and Simmons’ heart stopped as she heard the voice accompanying it. 

_ “I’ll tell the world, I’ll sing the song _

_ It’s a better place since you came along _

_ Since you came along _

_ Your touch is sunlight through the trees _

_ Your kisses are the open seas _ _   
_ _ Everything’s alright when you’re with me” _

She apparently  _ hadn’t  _ been alone that day. 

On the screen, Bobbi watched the video play through before inhaling shakily and pressing the play button again, setting down her phone, turning up the volume and closing her eyes. As Simmons’ voice flowed through the room, it was only then that Bobbi seemed to fall asleep, her arms curled around herself as if holding someone imaginary. 

The timeframe sped up then, and Simmons watched as Bobbi didn’t stir, save for a few twitches, finally slowing down to that morning, when Fitz stepped into the lab, his face morphing into pity as he found Bobbi asleep on the couch, her phone beside her. 

Slowly, he bent down to shake her. “Bobbi? Wake up, Bobbi.” 

“Jem?” Bobbi muttered sleepily, tightening her arms around the invisible mass of air. “No, come on, Jem, stay for a while...”

“Bobbi,” There was absolute pain in Fitz’s voice as he shook Bobbi’s shoulder again. The pain echoed in Simmons’ own heart, stabbing at her windpipe as she gasped, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “You gotta wake up.” This time, Bobbi seemed to register that she was hugging empty air, and opened her eyes, instinctively curling in on herself as she registered Fitz standing above her. 

“Fitz?”

He nodded. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Bobbi groaned as she slowly sat up, rubbing at her eyes and rearranging her hair. “‘S nothing. Happens all the time.” Fitz handed Bobbi her phone, an eyebrow raised, and she sighed, ducking her head. “Yeah.” 

“You miss her.” It was more of a statement than a question. 

“Like hell. Worse than hell.” A grim smile touched Bobbi’s face as she let out a small, humorless laugh. “She doesn’t miss me, though. I’m sure I’ll be okay eventually.” As Fitz turned towards his lab bench, she touched his arm, causing him to stop. “Hey. Thanks.”

“Now you know.” 

Simmons looked up to see Fitz standing before her, an unreadable expression on his face. She put down the tablet gently, her mind refusing to process what she’d just seen. “I...” she began, fanning a hand over her face.  _ She’d gone and stuffed all of that up.  _ “Bloody hell,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Fitz, what have I done?” 

Fitz cautiously gathered Simmons into his arms as she burst into tears, sobbing on his shoulder. “Why would she do that?” she demanded in between sobs. “Why would she tell me I was just a friend, then...then...she couldn’t fall asleep without me, for fuck’s sake!” Images of Bobbi’s tear-streaked face flashed into her mind, the raw grief in her eyes haunting Simmons’ soul. 

_ What had she done _ ? 

In a wild attempt to rectify things, her mind grasped wildly for moments before she’d gone and ripped their entire relationship to pieces; of Bobbi laughing as her blue eyes danced with amusement, of her casually throwing an arm around Simmons’ shoulders during movie nights, of  _ anything _ that would just give her back the Bobbi she so achingly loved. 

They only served to torture her more, flashing side-by-side with the Bobbi that had cried herself to sleep with a video. Deeply wrecked by the tainted images, Simmons broke into another fresh wave of tears, clutching madly at Fitz’s shoulders. 

Only...it wasn’t Fitz she was clutching at. 

Fitz had always been a little  _ too  _ warm when he gave his hugs, but this warmth was just right. Almost as if she’d been made for it.  _ Did she dare to look up...? _

“Jem,”

_ Yup, she was going for it.  _

Simmons looked up, and instantly, Bobbi’s lips met hers, pressing in a soft, insistent kiss that radiated apologies and demanded forgiveness all at the same time. Simmons wrapped her arms around Bobbi’s neck, quietly accepting the apologies and attempting to convey some of her own. When they broke apart, Bobbi’s eyes were sparkling with tears, but it was with concern that she reached out and wiped a tear off of Simmons’ face instead. “Jem, you alright?”

“I’m so sorry,” Simmons blubbered out, the dam behind her regrets suddenly breaking. “I’m sorry I shut you out and pushed you away and it was the worst things I’ve ever done because I never  _ was  _ done with you, Bobbi, it was a stupid thing to say and stupid of me to  _ ever  _ think that I could even for a moment get away with it and I - I - I’m just sorry,” she sobbed, shuddering as Bobbi rubbed gentle circles on her back. “I’ve stuffed up awfully horribly and you probably do hate me which I’m perfectly fine with -”

“Jemma,” Bobbi gave a watery laugh. “I don’t hate you.” 

“-although that doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, really, what are you doing here - did you say something?” Simmons hiccupped, some stray tears making a last run down her cheeks. 

“I don’t hate you,” Bobbi said gently, pulling Simmons into her arms. “ _ God _ , Jemma. I could never hate you. I’m just an idiot, y’know?” 

“What?” Simmons asked, a faint note of outrage in her voice. “Bobbi, you’re not an idiot! Whatever makes you think that?”

Bobbi sighed, casting her eyes skyward. “Here goes nothing,” she muttered to the ceiling. “I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back,” she admitted. “And then I was stupid because I kissed her over a game of spoons. I freaked out and made it seem like it was for the win.”

“Yes, well, I was stupid because I took this girl seriously when she told me I was a great friend,” Simmons rolled her eyes self-deprecatingly. “I should’ve told her I was in love with her instead.” She looked up at Bobbi. “Maybe we both should’ve been a little more direct with our approaches towards those people,”

“Alright,” Bobbi shrugged. “The sky is blue, we need oxygen to breathe, and I love you,”

A smile bloomed over Simmons’ face as she leaned up to kiss Bobbi again. “Water is dew, cars need gasoline, and I love you, too.”

“MORSE! SIMMONS!” 

“While we’re stating facts, May is probably going to kill us if we don’t get over to the lounge with our red envelopes,” Bobbi said nervously, still letting a stupid grin dominate her expression. “We’d best better go.”

* * *

“Yeah, Simmorse!” Skye whooped loudly as Bobbi and Simmons darted into the lounge five minutes later, an arm each wrapped around each other’s waists. “About time, too!” The two of them only traded looks of long-suffering amusement before settling into a couch, Simmons sprawling across Bobbi’s lap. 

“Can we just bloody get on with it?” Hunter whined, tugging at the flap of his red envelopes. “I just want to find out how much money I got already!” 

“Are you sure?” Coulson asked, raising an eyebrow from the bar. “Because that’s your paycheck for the year.”

“He’s trying to tell you you’re not getting anything,” Lincoln deadpanned, breaking out into laughter when Hunter let out a small screech. “No, seriously, I wouldn’t expect much,” he added, this time more seriously. “Red envelopes are for people who aren’t married yet. You already got married, man.” 

“I want you all to put this tissue down before you start piling the money on the floor,” May said, passing around a box of Kleenex. “Regardless of whether we exist or not, money is still dirty, and I just cleaned the floors last week.” Each of them took a tissue, laying it flat on the floor. “Have fun.” 

Skye let out a cheer as she opened each envelope reverently, taking out each bill as if it were a precious commodity before smoothing it out and laying it on the tissue. Hunter was a lot less reserved about his, eagerly tearing into his envelopes and shaking out the money. Beside him, Joey was laughing as Mack struggled with his envelopes, his fingers too large to deftly extract the money. 

Finally, he held out his hands, and Mack sighed, handing Joey the envelopes. 

“Skye, have you opened the box I gave you this morning?” Skye, who was cuddled into Lincoln’s shoulder, looked up from where she was examining a five dollar bill. May nodded at her. “Do it.” 

With one hand, she opened the box while idly playing with the jade pendant May had given her a couple of days ago. A delicate gold chain bracelet lay nestled in the velvet, and it took all she had not to replicate Hunter’s screech. 

“Holy  _ shit _ , Lian,” Lincoln muttered from beside her. “How much is that thing even  _ worth _ ?” 

“What’d she give you?” May craned over to look inside the box, smirking when she saw what was inside. “Oh, that.” 

“What do you mean?” Skye asked, snapping the lid of the box shut and turning to May. “What do you mean, ‘Oh, that’? Is there something I should know about this?”

“That bracelet has literally seen every corner of the world,” May chuckled. “Lian used to wear it when she was on missions. She told me she once lost it on Everest and it showed up at our doorstep a year later.”

“But why me?” Skye asked, confused. “Why didn’t she just give it to you? Obviously, you’d be the next one in the line to receive it, right?” 

“I think she figured you needed it more than I did,” May said after a moment of thought. “The point of it is to say that no matter how far we all may go,” She sat down beside Skye, throwing an arm around her daughter. “Family will always come back to you.” 

“Hear, hear,” Coulson echoed, starting a round of applause. Even Hunter stopped counting his money long enough to clap, although he was the first one to stop. “Although this does mean one thing,” he said. 

“What’s that?” Skye asked, her voice cracking slightly with emotion. 

Coulson turned to Lincoln. “We need to have a talk. My office, 1300 hours tomorrow, and don’t give me a reason to get the shotgun.” 

_ “Dad!” _


	15. bonus: nights in the lab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small bonus chapter for what went through Bobbi's head in the lab.

It’s three AM. 

The harsh, fluorescent lights of the lab are the only things that are keeping Bobbi awake, and even so, it’s just barely. Her eyelids ache from where she’d burst into tears earlier, and she’s barely keeping herself from letting her head hit the table. She needs to sleep, her body tells her, she’s been pushing her endurance little by little, and if she keeps this up, it’s going to get her shot. 

But Bobbi doesn’t  _ want  _ to sleep. She  _ can’t  _ sleep. She should know. She’s tried. The last few nights have only resulted in the same thing - a restless night tossing and turning, a distinct lack of warmth in her arms that she knows to be the size of a certain tiny scientist, the image of curiously lit brown eyes burned into the back of her eyelids every time she closed her own. She  _ needs  _ Jemma - needs her in a way that yanks at her heartstrings and forces her eyes open even when they want to close. 

Tiredly, she moves the test tube in her hand over to the centrifuge, meaning to slide it in and start the cycle, but the tube has a mind of its own, slipping from her lax hand and shattering on the floor. Bobbi closes her eyes briefly as she groans - it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be replicated, but it was going to take a hell of a long time to do so - grabbing a dustpan from a darkened corner of the lab and bending down to sweep up the shards.

She dumps the remains into a trash can, briefly resting an elbow on the lab table as she lets out an exhausted sigh. “I need sleep.”  _ Yeah, great job, Morse. You’re so out of it that you’re talking to yourself in an abandoned lab at three in the morning.  _ It’s only in her best interest that she at least  _ try  _ to get some sleep. Even if she’ll wake up in the morning missing Jemma worse than before. 

Sighing, Bobbi gingerly plops down onto the small couch they have for nights like these. It’s nowhere near her size, made towards people more like FitzSimmons, but it’s better than shuffling down the hallway towards her own bunk. She curls herself towards the wall, trying to forget that she’s the only one there. The wall will certainly help with that, but as her arms fall in seemingly random places, it’s only a bitter reminder that she had nothing (or no one) to hold. 

She tries everything. By her sides, under her head, wrapped around herself; nothing works, and her arms feel out of place, searching for something to hold. In a last ditch attempt, Bobbi grabs the nearest pillow - Fitz’s, probably, seeing as it’s a dark forest green - and squeezes it tightly, hoping that it’ll provide some semblance of the warmth she was so desperate to have. It doesn’t work, of course, and Bobbi tosses it aside with a huff before closing her eyes in defeat. 

She’s putting off the inevitable, really. There’s no sleep without Jemma, and seeing as how she doesn’t seem to be coming around any time soon, desperate times call for desperate measures. The depression digs deep into Bobbi’s chest cavity as she fishes her phone out of her pocket, scrolling through her videos as she searches for the perfect memento. Warily, she stares at the play button, unsure if she wants to hit play. If she does, there’s no going back: Jemma’s voice is going to haunt her for the next eight hours, replaying over and over in her mind until it drives her insane. 

She takes a constricted breath, tears beginning to well up in her eyes, and presses play. 

_ “And here we have the biochemist extraordinaire,”  _ Her camera pans onto Simmons’ surprised face, and Bobbi smiles softly in remembrance of the moment. Simmons just  _ exudes  _ innocence whenever she’s surprised, and it reminds Bobbi of what she’s lost all too soon.  _ “Jemma Simmons, what are we up to today?”  _ On-camera Simmons lets out a tinkling laugh that probes into the pressing sadness in her chest, and it’s with that sadness at the forefront of her mind that she continues watching the videos. 

She distinctly remembers the off-camera hug that occurs after she’s cut off the video, leaning in to press Simmons’ body against hers briefly before dashing off to film Fitz. Now that she thinks about it, Bobbi didn’t sleep too well that night either - there’d been something in her system that had refused to settle, a hollow that needed filling. She’d chalked it up to the weird food they’d eaten; trying new dishes from the Indian place was always an adventure. (It hadn’t helped that she’d been the one to swap plates with Simmons.)

The video cuts off, and Bobbi instinctively swipes towards the next one, pressing play before she can think about what she’s doing. She’s putting herself through hell, she knows, but if it’ll earn her a few hours of sleep, it’s something she can think about doing every once in awhile.

(Who’s she kidding? This’ll be the only way she’ll be able to fall asleep for the rest of her life. Nights filled with that used to be, days brutally shoving a starkly different reality into her face. It will fucking  _ kill  _ her.)

Music blares through her speakers like the firecrackers May and Lincoln had set off earlier during the holiday, and Bobbi hums a little as a completely wasted Simmons strides confidently up onto the stage, her normally contained locks put up into a wild hairdo.  _ “I come home, in the morning light, my mother says what you gonna do with your life...”  _ She can hear her cheers, as well as the team’s, echoing in the background. The memory of Simmons’ hug after she’d stumbled off of the stage rips through Bobbi’s being, so realistic that Bobbi nearly brings her arms around herself, convinced Simmons is right there with her. 

She moves on to the next video. It’s completely thoughtless by now, an unsated need to remember the Jemma she loved...the one she’ll never have. Various moments from the past year flit past Bobbi’s eyes, one after the other. There are a distinct few: Simmons’ expression of pure joy when Bobbi had shown up on Valentine’s Day the year before with Cadbury, Jaffa Cakes, and Kinder Eggs; the same expression turning to outrage when, merely two months later, she was caught unawares with a foul mixture of rotten eggs and vinegar. 

It’s only been a few days, but Bobbi misses those expressions, misses Simmons’ musical laughter to the point where she struggles to breathe. She’d give anything to have that back - the quiet afternoons, the stolen moments in the lab, the space in her arms, that (despite the occasions being very far in between but certainly not few) seems to be exactly the size of the tiny scientist. Anyone could tell her that it was nearly impossible to go cold turkey on something...but how could she explain the pain of going cold turkey on a  _ person _ ? 

The last video pops up, and before she’s even pushed play, Bobbi can sense that there’s a finality to it, her last act of missing Jemma before she wakes up in the morning someone new. A goodbye, somehow, to the woman who’d somehow managed to worm her way into her heart in such a short period of time, only to throw it right back out into the streets. Not that Bobbi’s blaming her; of course not. It’s her own fault, really, for believing that she could fall so hard and have it reciprocated. 

With a last exhale, Bobbi presses play, pressing futilely at the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. She closes her eyes briefly, knowing that in the morning, she’ll force herself to delete all of these videos. Keeping them would only prevent her from healing herself, and she needs to learn to be someone new, someone who can function without crying themselves to sleep. 

_ “I’ll tell the world, I’ll sing the song _

_ It’s a better place since you came along _

_ Since you came along _

_ Your touch is sunlight through the trees _

_ Your kisses are the ocean breeze _

_ Everything’s alright when you’re with me” _

As on-camera Simmons launches gently into the chorus, the piano just as soft as her voice, Bobbi watches as the video pans into their music room, the view shifting just slightly as she’d positioned herself against the doorway, filming quietly. She drinks in the sight of just  _ Jemma _ , no holds barred and all spirit as she plays through the rest of the song. Her hands flow gracefully over the octaves, and her entire body goes into the movements, the fragile lilt in her voice easily floating over the high notes. 

Finally, when it finishes, there’s a small creak as camera-Bobbi makes a move to quietly sneak out of the room without being noticed. The video stops, and Bobbi’s left with the  _ finality  _ of it all, with the sense that she’s somehow found the aftermath of the storm, looking over the remnants of the wreckage. There’s no point but forward from here on out, and once she takes the first step towards the future, there’ll be no more chances for the past. 

But Bobbi can’t leave the past. Not just yet. It’s too precious to her, too filled with regrettable moments and memories she wants to hang onto with all of her strength. So she pushes the play button on the last video one more time, shifting from a sitting position to a sleeping one as the music begins, laying her phone facedown next to her. She closes her eyes for what she hopes is the last time in sadness, letting Simmons’ voice flow through her ears as she finally drifts off to sleep.

* * *

_ “Bobbi? Wake up, Bobbi,” _

The words reach her as if she’s underwater, and Bobbi tightens her arms around Simmons, determined to make her stay. “Jem?” she mutters, knowing that Simmons is an early riser and probably just wants to get up for a cup of tea. “No, come on, Jem, stay for a while...”

_ “Bobbi, you gotta wake up. _ ” This time, the shifting is much more insistent, and Bobbi forces her eyes open to see Fitz standing over her, his face full of severe pity. The space in her arms now is very much a space, and not Simmons. Pain pangs through Bobbi’s chest, stabbing at the pit of emotion once again as she curls in slightly to herself, not wanting anyone to see her raw. 

“Fitz?”

He nods. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” It’s a mental war she wages as she pushes herself to her feet, the action her first in her attempt to live a life without an emotional attachment to Jemma Simmons. “‘S nothing. Happens all the time.” 

Fitz glances at her phone then and scoops it up and hands it to her, an eyebrow raised. It’s obvious that he doesn’t believe Bobbi sleeps with her phone next to her all the time, but as of recently, it’s been true. It counts for something, doesn’t it? She sighs, caught. “Yeah.”

“You miss her.” She wants to tell him that it’s more than that, it’s a yearning that stretches out of every fiber of her being, one that makes her want to sob petulantly in a ball until she can’t sob anymore. It’s so much more than missing her. 

“Like hell. Worse than hell.” Bobbi can feel a bitter grin touch the corners of her lips as she lets out a sharp exhale of breath. “She doesn’t miss me, though. I’m sure I’ll be okay eventually.”  _ On the outside, maybe. Behind closed doors will always be another story.  _ She takes her phone from him, sliding it into her pocket as she heads over to her workstation to begin the day. 

_ “Good morning, Fitz! _ ” The door to the lab closes heavily in the distance as Simmons’ voice rings through the air, and Fitz exchanges a look with Bobbi as he too heads over to his work, the two of them pretending that their encounter had never happened. 

She listens as Fitz takes the tea, fiddling with some sort of contraption as Fitz questions Simmons’ ignorance of Bobbi as she’d walked in.  _ “Me? A grudge against Agent Morse? Why  _ ever  _ would I do that?”  _

That’s it. Bobbi can’t take it anymore. She slides between two lab technicians as she makes her way to the door, tears prickling at her eyes. The lab door slams shut behind her as she storms down the hallway to her bunk, and no one has the audacity to stop her as she angrily kicks her closed, failing to make it even towards the bed before she’s bawling her eyes out. 

Who was she to think she could do this? Try and cut out the relationship she’s built up with Simmons over the past year? Reduce one of the strongest things she’s ever had to complete and utter rubble, all because she’s too afraid to take things a step further? Bobbi’s phone is a brick in her pocket, teeming with everything she can’t let go of and then some. It’s texts sent during lulls between missions, during debriefings, during late nights when neither of them can sleep. 

It’s silly photos taken at opportune moments, some stages, some the result of luck and timing on their side. It’s inane vlogs taken at three in the morning when they’re both beyond proper comprehension and nearly falling over each other over seemingly new lab discoveries. 

It’s a playlist of music Jemma had been intent on making for her, spending an entire afternoon confiscating Bobbi’s phone and refusing to return it until she was satisfied her playlist had been loaded up to her standards. 

It’s a collection of movies she’d downloaded for Bobbi all because she’d mentioned once or twice about watching them, each of them sorted into playlists named  _ watch with Jem  _ and  _ rewatch with Jem _ . 

It’s a piece of technology that  _ definitely  _ should not be lighting up right now, and most decidedly not with Fitz’s name. After all, he’s working with Simmons in the lab, and their sciencing is nothing to interrupt...Still, she picks it up, on the off chance it’s something important. “Fitz?” 

Her ears are assaulted with the sounds of Simmons’ sobs, muffled as Fitz’s phone is supposedly in his pocket. The depressed creature in Bobbi’s chest lifts itself feebly, ready to diagnose the whole situation as a false alarm before going back to wallow in misery.  _ “Why would she do that?”  _ she hears Simmons demand, her sobs loud and inelegant.  _ “Why would she tell me I was just a friend, then...then...she couldn’t fall asleep without me, for fuck’s sake!”  _ Friend? When had she called Jemma a great friend? 

_ “You’re the greatest friend I’ve ever had, Jem,”  _ Unbidden, the memory sneaks up on her, a late night shortly before the beginning of Chinese New Year, when the two of them had shared a drink alone in the lab, Fitz having been dragged out earlier by an insistent Hunter. Bobbi hadn’t given it much thought, but it apparently had resonated within Simmons more than she’d known. 

Another wave of sobs echoes through the phone, and Bobbi’s immediately on her feet, out of her room and down the hallway. She bursts into the lab, pushing aside scientist after scientist until she finds Fitz with a fractured Simmons in his arms. He’s quickly but tactfully pushed aside, her heart gasping back to life as Simmons grasps onto her without looking up, her hysteria renewing. Fitz nods, holding his phone to show he’s ended the call before shooing the rest of the lab techs out. Bobbi shoots him a look loaded with thankfulness and buries her nose into Simmons’ hair, breathing in the scent she’s missed in the last few days. 

Jemma’s still sobbing, but they’ve slowed as she registers that something is off about the person she’s holding. Bobbi can almost see the the gears turning in her head as she tries to figure it out, and decides to speed up the process a little. 

“Jem.” It’s such a relief to say her name again, and as Simmons looks up, Bobbi throws everything to the wind and leans down to kiss her, trying to find everything she can’t say in words. She tries to tell her about the movies and the playlists, about the texts and videos, that there has  _ never  _ been anything more sure of in her entire life; the creature inside of her lets out an exultant whoop as Jemma kisses her back, understanding everything Bobbi’s trying to say and more. 

The tears in Jemma’s eyes are the first thing she notices when she pulls back, and Bobbi can’t help herself from swiping away at a stray one that makes it way down her cheek. “Jem, are you alright?” It’s a stupid question, she knows, but after everything, it’ll always be she that comes first. 

“I’m so sorry,” Simmons bursts out, any chance of her tears stopping gone as she launches into uncontrollable sobs once more. “I’m sorry I shut you out and pushed you away and it was one of the worst things I’ve ever done because I was never  _ was  _ done with you, Bobbi, it was a stupid thing to say and stupid of me to  _ ever  _ think that I could even for a moment get away with it and I - I - I’m just sorry,” she gets out finally. Bobbi hums as Simmons leans into her, raising a hand to rub comforting circles on her back. To be even able to  _ touch  _ her is a blessing in Bobbi’s opinion, something that she’s not going to take for granted ever again. “I’ve stuffed up horribly and you probably do hate me which I’m perfectly fine with -”

Bobbi’s sure she’s never loved Jemma more. “Jemma,” she says with a choked laugh, her own relief and admiration beginning to manifest. “I don’t hate you.”

“-although that doesn't explain what you’re doing here, really, what are you doing here - did you say something?” Simmons pulls back, and Bobbi wants nothing more than to kiss away the leftover tears on her face. 

“I don’t hate you.” She pulls Simmons into her arms, the phantom warmth and its physical being finally reunited. “ _ God,  _ Jemma. I could never hate you. I’m just an idiot, y’know?” Enough that she’d actually considered giving up Simmons entirely. She was just lucky she’d saved herself in the nick of time. 

“What?” There’s a faint note of outrage in Simmons’ reply, and pride washes through Bobbi.  _ This one’s hers.  _ “Bobbi, you’re not an idiot! Whatever makes you think that?” 

She knows that what they’ve done here and now is probably indication enough, but Bobbi likes to be clear about her intentions - she’s heard some nasty stories of miscommunication that hadn’t turned out well. “Here goes nothing,” she mutters, looking up to the ceiling. “I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back. And then I was stupid because I kissed her over a game of spoons. I freaked out and made it seem like it was for the win.” 

“Yes, well, I was stupid because I took this girl seriously when she told me I was a great friend.” Simmons rolls her eyes, and a smile fights its way onto Bobbi’s face.  _ Not yet, Morse. Not yet.  _ “I should’ve told her I was in love with her instead.” She looks up at Bobbi then, and Bobbi’s hit (not for the first time) with the realization of just  _ how  _ much she’s missed Jemma, brown eyes sparkling with a hint of hope and love. “Maybe we should’ve been a little more direct with our approaches towards those people.” 

It’s an opening if she’s ever seen one. “Alright,” she shrugs. “The sky is blue, we need oxygen to breathe, and I love you.” The declaration is casually dropped, easy, but the weight that it’s holding is so much more. 

Jemma’s kissing her again, a smile on her face that’s absolutely contagious, and Bobbi finally lets hers break out, struck dumb with the way the morning’s played out. “Water is dew, cars need gasoline, and I love you, too.” 

_ “MORSE! SIMMONS!”  _

“While we’re stating facts,” Bobbi says nervously, still trying to adjust with the fact that  _ she  _ is  _ Jemma’s, Jemma  _ is  _ hers -  _ the fluttering in her chest making it all the more obvious - “May is probably going to kill us if we don’t get over to the lounge with our red envelopes. We’d best better go.” 

The stupid smile is still on her face as she and Simmons walk out of the lab hand in hand, but that’s alright. She’s got her Jemma back. What else could really matter?


End file.
